


An Attempt at Safety and the Reality of Freedom.

by Ghastly_lemons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon compliant until HBP, Draco is muddling along, Draco learning to do good, F/M, Hermione just wants to do her thing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, set during DH, slooooooow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghastly_lemons/pseuds/Ghastly_lemons
Summary: During the invasion of Hogwarts Hermione Granger found herself targeted by the Death Eaters, chased through the castle by them until one caught her. When she woke, she found herself facing someone she'd never expected.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 69
Kudos: 62





	1. Captives

**July 1996**

Voldemort watched the young man rise shakily from his knees to stand in front of him, standing as tall as he could and trying not to sway. His grey eyes fixed on the floor as he took slow breaths, trying not to vomit and refusing to look at the gathered crowd.

“Well done, Young Malfoy. Welcome to the ranks of the _faithful_.” The sneer was unhidden in the words, no one in the lavish ballroom thought that the teenager had taken the Mark willingly. All knew it was a leash to keep the disgraced Malfoy family under control.

The Malfoy heir raised his chin and stiffened his spine. “Thank you My Lord, I will endeavour to prove myself worthy of this honour.” His left hand still twitched with the pain the Dark Mark had caused him and his face was ghostly white, but his expression and bearing were impeccable.

Sibilant laughter ran chills up the spines of many of those _Faithful_ present to witness the ceremony. “Such spirit! You will need that to complete your tasks this year.” Voldemort leaned back on the dark throne he had conjured in the Malfoys own ballroom, stroking the head of the giant snake that wound around him.

“Tasks, My Lord?”

“Yes, a dual task, really.” Red eyes widened with perverse glee. “First, I have heard that you excel in solving problems most consider unsolvable. So you will be granted the honour of finding a way to usher in your fellows to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Before the end of the coming school year. I’m sure it will be but a trifle for you.”

Narcissa Malfoy stifled a whine, her sons subtle hand gesture keeping her from interrupting.

“It will be done. Before you tell me the second part of my task, I wish to ask a boon My Lord.” None could see the fear he felt asking this as he kept his chin tilted proudly high, but they all knew he felt it.

“Oh, you make demands?” Voldemort was amused by this striplings cheek and waved for him to continue.

Draco Malfoy lowered himself to one knee on the ebony floor and bowed his head before the pale snake-man. “Perhaps not a demand, but a wish if I perform to your satisfaction.” Staying down but lifting his head to meet the unearthly red eyes of the creature who now held sway over his home, Draco took a steadying breath and made his request. “I would like to take a hostage when we storm Hogwarts.”

Another soul chilling laugh echoed through the massive room, this one high, mad, and feminine. “My nephew wants someone? For sport or to ransom, little Draco?” Bellatrix’s broken teeth bared in an insane grin as she danced forwards to leer over her kin. “Who, who, who?!”

Draco never took his eyes off Voldemort. “I want Hermione Granger.”

-

**June 30th 1997**

Hermione ran barefoot through the halls of Hogwarts in her pyjamas and a jumper, feeling the Felix Felicis wearing off with every passing step. Gripping her wand so tight she thought it might snap, she gasped for breath as she fled the grim figure in dark robes that chased her. Twice she had nearly been caught, and she dodged red stunning spells as she searched for an escape.

The castle was a mad house, the Death Eaters throwing spells without regard while the older students and teachers tried to quell them. The battle had been short so far, but she was terrified and awed by the intensity of it. And very, very confused by the fact that many of the masked bastards seemed to be gunning specifically for her. She rather grimly felt a little pride alongside her fear to be considered such a threat that so many grown witches and wizards had turned to try and take her on as she ran past.

Finally she heard no more pursuit, and she threw herself into a hidden alcove to catch her breath so she could get back to the fight. Before she could gain back a little stamina, sudden footfalls outside her hiding place made her shrink back and slap her hands over her mouth in an effort to keep quiet.

“I know you’re there little Mudblood. May as well come out.” The deep, raspy voice caused Hermione to shiver in fear and try to press further into the alcove in the hopes they were bluffing. “No? Well, then…” Suddenly an arm cloaked in black shot out and grabbed her by her unruly curls, hauling her back into the corridor and throwing her to the floor. A cruel silver mask stared down at her and she froze for a fatal second before trying to raise her wand too late. “ _Stupefy_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this fic, I have been working on this one in my spare time during lockdown. This is just an idle re-write, but there is a parallel fic that I may post one day. For now, I hope you enjoy.


	2. A Mockery of Safety

Hermione woke with a great heaving breath and scrambled to try and find her wand.

“It’s ok, you’re safe.” The voice sounded cracked and exhausted, but familiar. Hermione bolted upright and whipped her head towards the speaker.

“Malfoy?! What the hell is going on?” Hermione looked around to try and make sense of where they were. 

She was sitting in a carved walnut bed in a large octagonal room, with rosy dawn light pouring through four huge arched windows hung with lush byzantine blue velvet curtains to stain the white stone walls with a soft blush. Two bookcases filled to bursting with books stretched from the floor to the high domed ceiling between the windows on two of the walls. Two simple wooden doors were set into the wall opposite where she sat, flanking a small hearth with a couch and two overstuffed armchairs in front of it. The bed was set against the final wall, with an elaborate tapestry of a peaceful meadow hanging above it, and a small dining table with two chairs sat in the exact middle of the room. The effect was both airy and cosy.

Malfoy sat on the plush silver brocade couch before the fireplace, his head bowed and his hands hanging limply between his knees. He looked even more exhausted than he sounded. His usually pristine white hair was smudged with dirt and soot, and he had deep bruises clawing up his ashen face. Sighing, Malfoy stood and walked over to lean on the mantleplace, his head bowed to look at the floor. Hermione noted that it was as far as he could be from the bed she was in.

“So, please hear me out, and save any slaps for later, right?” Malfoy eyed her warily until she nodded her begrudging acceptance. “Okay… Okay, so Death Eaters got into the school, you remember that? You were one of the targets. You were captured and brought here, to Malfoy Manor.” He blurted out in a panicked rush.

Hermione stiffened in alarm. “What? Why bring me here? Why grab me? What happened? Is everyone else ok? Harry? Ron? I don’t know anything! Are they going to kill me?! What- Wh- What-” She could feel herself getting increasingly hysterical, but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Tears began to run down her face and she choked on short gasps of air. The bed dipped next to her, and felt Malfoy pat her shoulder lightly.

“It’s ok, your friends are alright. No one is going to hurt you in here.” Malfoy kept his hand on her shoulder until her cries evened out enough for his to continue. “You’re going to hate me for this, but all of it is my fault.”

Hermione snapped around to look at him so fast her hair hit him and growled, hysteria instantly forgotten. “What?!”

Malfoy slid off the bed and backed up a little, holding his hands up to ward her off, or in supplication. “It’s all my fault, the whole thing. I let them in.”

Hermione instantly launched herself at him, snarling viciously and aiming to punch wherever she could reach. Unfortunately, she was freshly woken from a stunner, and a good deal smaller than him. So even though he didn’t fight back, she couldn’t do a lot of damage. “You utter scumbag! You _let them in!_ Are you insane?! Hogwarts is full of _children_ and you let a bunch of murderers in to pillage the school!?”

Malfoy backed up into the table. “I know, alright! I know! I didn’t have a damn choice!”

“No choice?! Are you kidding me?!” Hermione tried to punch his face, and he deflected the blow but still didn’t fight back, instead hunching his shoulders defensively.

“They had my mother! Alright?! They were hurting her, and I had to fucking agree to save her.” Malfoy grabbed her wrists and held them to stop her assault, so she tried to kick his knee out from under him. He pushed her away from his body to get a little distance between them. “And I saved you too, alright?!”

Hermione ceased her attempts to batter him. “What?” She whispered.

“You were number two on the hit list. My mother found out about what they were going to make me do right before I had to be presented to the snake himself. She told me who was on the list for the others to eliminate, and Potter was first. You were second.” Draco released her hands and slumped back to sit on the table, rubbing his face tiredly. “So I asked to be rewarded if I completed the mission. I asked for you.”

Hermione stumbled back and tripped over her own feet, sitting heavily on the floor. She stared up at Malfoy, mouth working but unable to get a single word out. After a tense minute he crouched down in front of her.

“Look, you and I don’t get along, and I know I’m pretty much entirely at fault for that. But I realised that the idea of you dead is a whole lot worse than the idea of you alive.” Malfoy offered her his hand, keeping to a non-threatening distance. “I convinced them it was a rivalry thing, that I was mad you showed me up all the time. Then I set up this place in secret. No one but a Malfoy can get in or out of this room, and my parents won’t come here. So this is relatively safe.”

“Safe?! I should be home, I should be with Harry and Ron!” Hermione slapped his hand away and drew her legs up and began sobbing into her knees. “This is insane, you’re keeping me prisoner and you call it safe?”

Malfoy sat heavily and ran his hands through his filthy hair. “It’s as much safety as I can offer. I’m not kidding when I say you were on the list. Potter was to be captured and brought to the Dark Lord. But you were to be killed on sight. They all know that you are the brains behind Potter, and therefore responsible for keeping him alive any number of times. So they really hate you, even before you get into bullshit like blood.”

“Well you seem to care a whole lot about blood!” Hermione was both enraged and devastated, furious sobs wracking her body.

“I did. Past tense. Let’s just say that it didn’t take long for the current inhabitants of my home to show me that their beliefs are an absolute crock.” Malfoy scoffed, grey eyes sharp as he looked at the floor.

Hermione felt the panic burst through her rage “What inhabitants? Who’s here?!” She gasped. “Not… Oh God.” Her hands began to shake, and she was imagining Voldemort bursting through one of the doors with an _Avada_ on his lips any second.

Malfoy put a seeker-quick hand on her knee. “Calm down, no one can get in here, I promise. They don’t even know this room exists. Everyone thinks I’ve got you in one of the warded dungeons.”

Hermione curled in on herself, not even having the energy to fight any more. Too much had happened in the battle, then the fear while she was being hunted, then this confusing conversation where the boy who’d gone out of his way to make her life hell wanted to keep her safe. She felt wrung out and all she had left was hot, painful tears. “Is everyone really ok?” Her words were overcome and small, but she just wanted to know.

“Your friends are ok. None of them got… badly hurt.” He sounded evasive and hesitant.

Hermione realised he was hiding something. “W-what aren’t you t-telling me?” She tried desperately to get her sobs under control, but she knew that what he was hiding must be worse.

Malfoy withdrew his hand and looked sick, his skin going faintly green. “Dumbledore. He died.”

Fresh cries clawed out of Hermione, harsh and burning. Dumbledore had seemed like a fact of life, immovable and solid. With him gone, who was going to stem the tide of evil? She fell to the floor completely, curled on her side in her grief. She didn’t hear Malfoy shift until his shaking hand began stroking her tangled hair. He didn’t say anything as she cried her heart onto the expensive rug, just stayed beside her and kept stroking her hair in the same gentle rhythm until she was too exhausted to cry anymore. Then he lifted her up into the cradle of his arms and carried her over to the bed, putting her on top of the sheets as she stared numbly at the ceiling.

“I’ll be back later. Try to get some sleep.” Then with a harsh crack of apparition, he was gone.


	3. Questions

The next time she woke the light was golden and Hermione guessed it was late afternoon. Her head ached from the weight of her earlier tears, and she was still exhausted. But she dragged herself upright nonetheless. She needed to find a way out, a way to get to the Order or Harry and Ron. Malfoy can take his false safety and shove it.

She started with the doors. Neither of which, to her great disappointment, was an exit. One lead to a bathroom. Not too large, just enough for a shower, bath, toilet and vanity. But somehow feeling spacious, done in luxurious white marble with bronze accents. The other door was a small walk in wardrobe. Hermione was mildly disturbed when she noticed that the clothes were not only in her size, but mostly in styles she would wear. That is to say, _Muggle_. If of a far higher quality than anything she had ever owned, and her family was hardly badly off. Sadly, there were no shoes beyond simple slippers.

Next she searched the room itself. While there were a few knick-knacks, none looked like something she could use as a weapon. And her wandless magic was still mostly just defensive charms so she doubted she could transfigure anything to do enough harm. The bookshelves were well stocked, so perhaps she could fight her way out with a heavy book. She snorted softly to herself at the mental image of taking on a trained Death Eater with Hogwarts: a History. 

The windows were charmed to be shatter-proof and showed a view that would have been breath-taking in any other circumstance. Her room was probably the highest in the Manor, towards the back if she had to guess. She could see the grounds stretched out in all their splendour, lush gardens giving way to carefully manicured lawns, which gave way in turn to semi-wild woods that looked like the setting of a muggle fairy tale. A hedge maze stood on one side of the estate, and she assumed it was charmed, because she couldn’t trace a path with her eyes no matter how she tried.

Eventually the sun began to sink, and Hermione had to admit that either the room had nothing she could immediately make use of, or she was too tired to think just now. She hoped it was the latter. Turning from the window, she decided to take a shower and hoped that helped her think. Looking down at her smoke stained and ripped pyjamas she chewed her lip, trying to decide whether she should raid the provided closet or refuse to acknowledge the clothes. Eventually her pragmatism won out, and she went and found a simple shirt and some soft, long cotton pants. The underwear drawer held only plain knickers and bras in a few different sizes, which was somehow comforting. The idea of Malfoy providing undergarments was disturbing for a multitude of reasons and she was glad they seemed basic.

The shower did help her a little. She still felt distant from what had happened, as though it was nothing more than a bad dream, but her brain was starting to tick over properly again. The most important thing she needed to get was more information, and Malfoy seemed to be her only source of it. She didn’t think she’d be able to manipulate him too well, but she may be able to push him a little to get him to reveal something. She tried to think of a plan while she washed the smell of battle out of her hair. Using his guilt against him might work, but she wasn’t sure. He seemed to be acting very out of character.

Hermione’s stomach dropped at that realisation. He had acted so out of character last night that this may be him manipulating _her_. She resolved to be wary of any kindness from here out as she combed some conditioner through her heavy hair. She carefully went over her body while the conditioner sat, checking for injuries or anything odd. She had a few marks from minor curses that had brushed past her, and a bruise on her right hip at the back and a sore spot on her scalp which she assumed was from where the Death Eater that caught her had thrown her to the ground. But otherwise, she was fine.

Rinsed and clean, she stepped out of the shower and dried off with the fluffiest towel she’d ever touched. The mirror over the vanity showed her more of her back and she confirmed that nothing was visibly amiss before dressing and leaving the bathroom, squeezing her still wet hair with a towel. Malfoy was waiting for her near the table, which had a meal laid out on it.

“I brought you some food, and I thought we could talk a little more.” He’d cleaned up too, and had his bruises healed from the looks of it. She thought he looked surreal with nothing but politeness on his face. She’d seen him angry, sneering, nasty, scared, sick, haughty, even devastated last time he had been in here with her. But she didn’t think she’d ever seen him be polite. She wondered if polyjuice was involved.

Hermione cautiously eyed the meal and Malfoy, not speaking or moving from the door.

He pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for her to sit in it with the same courteous expression. “It’s not poisoned, I promise. Look, we’ll serve from the same platter and you can pick first. Is that better?” 

Hermione offered a tiny nod and moved to the other chair, not sitting down yet. “No tricks?” She didn’t really trust his word, but it was better than nothing and she was hungry.

“None.” He held out some serving utensils to her and only sat when she took them and sat down herself.

Neither of them spoke while Hermione served herself from the platter of roasted chicken and vegetables, all of which smelled heavenly and reminded her strongly that she’d not eaten since having a light meal the night before. She then shoved the utensils at him and waited for him to start eating before she ate as well.

Eventually he broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Is there anything you want to ask?”

“Of course I do.” She scoffed. “I know I asked some questions before, but I was in a right state so I obviously didn’t ask all the questions I have. First off, why ‘save’ me?” Hermione’s dark eyes fixed on Malfoys face, condescension dripping from her tone.

He, for his part, propped his elbows on the table and laced his fingers under his chin, returning her stare coolly. “Demanding you as a ‘reward’ was somewhat spur of the moment. Mother told me about the mission and the hit list quite literally on the walk from the residential wing to be presented like a lamb for slaughter.” His grey eyes flicked to the side, staring into the middle distance over her shoulder. “If anyone had asked me before that moment I would have said I was indifferent _at best_ to whether you lived or died. Then Mother said your name, and I suddenly wasn’t.” His stormy eyes returned to her face and he picked up his knife and fork again, all elegant pureblood manners. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t suddenly want to be your best friend or anything. But I had already been having doubts about the Dark Lords whole agenda, and if that whole thing was false, then why would I want a classmate dead? Especially one who is as smart as you? Seems rather a waste.”

Hermione was quite taken aback by his candour. “That’s it? You make it sound so… Simple.”

“It is the truth. Your eternal swottiness drove me insane in school, and I resented the hell out of you when I was forever second to you in grades. But why should that be a death sentence for you? Not to mention, you do quite prove a lot of the things I was taught about Muggle-borns to be very, very wrong. Though, maybe that’s the real reason _they_ hate you so.” He mused, taking a bite of his chicken.

“Oh, I should think that most everything they say about Muggle-borns is a complete load of tripe.” Hermione slowly ate a roast carrot and resolved to ask again another time, there was no way in hell that was the whole story. “How did you get them into the school?”

“The Vanishing Cabinet. There was one in the Room of Hidden Things, and its twin was in Borgin & Burkes. It took all year to fix it.” Malfoy had looked increasingly stressed all year, this must have been why.

“Do you know who caught me?”

“Lord Nott. Theo’s dad.” Malfoy grimaced.

Hermione filed that away for latter and continued her rapid fire questions. “Why did they want to get into the school?”

Malfoy tensed, his bony shoulders drawing up. “To kill Dumbledore. Or, at least to act as back up. I was supposed to…” Malfoy started, to her absolute horror, to cry. Not loudly, just a few tears tracking down his bloodless cheeks as he stared at his plate like he couldn’t see it at all. “I couldn’t.” There was finality lacing his voice, like it killed a part of him to say the words.

“Oh.” Suddenly she couldn’t eat anymore. The silence stretched and became a palpable thing, neither of them moving or touching the food. Finally Hermione made a request. “I need to let everyone know I’m ok. Can you let me do that?”

Malfoy wiped his cheeks with his thumb and straightened up again. “I hardly think that’s an unfair request. Just don’t tell them where you are please. If they come barrelling in, they’ll likely get killed.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, meaning to snap at him that she shouldn’t be here in the first place, before letting it out in a gusty sigh and letting that battle go for now. “Fine. May I have my wand?”

“Why? I can give you some parchment and ink? You don’t need to conjure any.” Malfoy clearly didn’t like the idea of giving her a wand. Smart.

“They won’t believe a bloody letter. I’ve heard that Patronus can be used to send messages, so I was going to do that. The boys will recognise mine.” She held out her hand expectantly.

“Of course you can cast a Patronus.” He looked both impressed and miffed. “But I can’t get you your wand, it’s locked up. Look… If you promise not to hex me, I’ll lend you mine.” Malfoy pulled his wand from a holster hidden in his right sleeve and held it out to her.

“That’s… very trusting of you.” Her fingers wrapped around the hawthorn handle, and it felt strange to her. Other people’s wands never felt quite right in her hand, but if she had to hazard a guess she thought she could use this one.

Malfoy let loose an undignified snort and a ghost of a smirk lit his face. “I’ve already told you that only Malfoys can get into or out of this room, and I know you are smart enough know that I’m telling the truth on that. Also, I’m fairly sure that you are too noble do anything permanent to me.” His face dropped and became haunted. “And I’d probably deserve anything you did do, anyway.”

The look on his face made her pause. She hadn’t been intending to harm him anyway, she held her temper a lot better than her friends, barring a few notable exceptions, and very much wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on. He looked too careworn, older than his seventeen years and it made her bleeding heart feel for him, if only just a little. “Ok. Just, um, wait a minute. I’ve never cast this with anyone else’s wand before.”

It took four tries to get her otter Patronus to appear, and then she spoke clearly to it, uncaring that Malfoy sat across the table from her. “Harry, it’s me. I’m ok, I’ve just been hidden somewhere out of the way for now. Please tell everyone I’m unharmed and will contact you all when I can, don’t send anything back for now. I love you all.” The otter shrank into a speck of light, and rocketed out the window. Hermione was very reluctant to hand back the wand, but knew she needed to get Malfoy to trust her at least a little if she was to have a hope in hell of getting him to let her go.

As he took his wand he looked at her curiously. “Did you want your hair dried? It’s still dripping.”

Hermione hadn’t even noticed during their bizarre dinner. “Um, sure?” Agreeing out of pure shock, she was confused he would even offer until she realised the rug on the floor probably cost more than her parents’ house. 

Malfoy pointed his wand at her head and with a slow spiral movement murmured “ _Vanitatem Ancillum_.” Hermione felt her hair dry and grabbed a handful of it to check it was still as it should be. The curls were still bouncy and a little frizzy, but far smoother than she usually managed herself.

“What was that spell? I usually just use ‘ _siccesco_.”

“Merlin and Morgana, that explains a lot. _Siccesco_ is meant for fabric, not hair. The Maids Vanity spell is for drying hair. A slow clockwise spiral and the words. The longer the spiral, the smoother the hair. I don’t think it would get rid of the curl though.” Well, that explained his ever perfect hair.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. I appreciate it.”

Malfoy hummed and stowed his wand back up his right sleeve. “I have to get back. Feel free to read any book you please, and I will return tomorrow. I have nothing but free time at the moment.” He stood and gave her a sharp nod before apparating away, leaving the dinner plates on the table.

Hermione slouched back into her chair, the tension that their odd interactions and emotional upheaval had filled her with leaving in a sudden rush. She sat and chewed her thumb nail as she tried to make sense of it. Malfoy hadn’t sneered at her once, and his behaviour was so unlike him that she had no idea what to make of it. Her conclusion from the shower still held, and she tried to figure out what he might possibly be manipulating her towards. She didn’t really have too many secrets that she could give, and she’d certainly never betray any of her friends. As the food grew cold, she resigned herself to watching him and playing along with whatever game this was while she planned for a way to make her escape.

Satisfied for now with that conclusion, she walked to the bookshelves and selected a book of ancient healing techniques to read in bed. Eventually her eyes grew heavy and she fell asleep with the heavy tome on her chest.


	4. Mirry

The next morning Hermione had been awake for nearly an hour, reading at the now clear dining table, when Malfoy made his abrupt entrance. This time he was not alone, accompanied by a little house elf with huge green eyes and soft brown hair in a neat bun, wearing a deep blue tea towel.

“Good morning Granger. Meet Mirry, my personal house elf. She answers only to me, so she can serve you without problems too. Mirry, this is Miss Granger, and you will be serving her as well. You may not accept clothes from her or help her leave this room. Use your judgement on any of her other requests, and tell absolutely no one where she is.” Malfoy completed the rushed introductions as though it was any normal day.

“Pleased to meet Miss Granger. Mirry is at your service.” Mirry curtsied with surprising grace, her bright green eyes meeting hers unflinchingly. Then the little elf looked up at Malfoy and pursed her lips. “Mirry saw Master eat next to nothing at breakfast, Mirry will fetch enough to feed two.” Then she vanished before either of the teens could say another word.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sat on the couch, brushing imaginary lint off of his pitch black dress shirt. “Thank god no one pays attention to the elves, she’s a right terror.” He leant back, one arm along the back and his legs lazily crossed. “How are you this morning?”

Hermione shook herself out of her daze. “You have your own elf?”

“Yes. My father gave her to me when I was 5, family tradition and all that rot. She’s probably the cheekiest elf to ever live, and I quite like her so please don’t go upsetting her.” Malfoy studied her carefully. “You look a bit better. I didn’t ask you yesterday, but were you injured at all?”

“Why would you care?” Hermione snapped, her deep brown eyes glinting dangerously.

Malfoy flinched minutely. “I was going to offer to heal you.” His face looked bored, but the flinch had given away the ruse. Before Hermione could respond, Mirry popped back with a loaded platter of breakfast foods and a teapot and began setting the table.

“Oh, good morning Mirry. Sorry I didn’t say hello before, I was just a little surprised.” Hermione tried to smile at the elf and was shocked when the elf flipped a hand in dismissal and continued to set the table before giving both of them a perfunctory nod and vanishing without a word.

“Sorry about her, she’s in a mood today.” Malfoy sauntered over to the table and sat across from her, snagging a piece of toast and slathering it in bright red jam.

“Uh, no worries. Most elves make me worry for them with how scared they are.” Hermione sat as well and served herself some scrambled eggs and mushrooms. “Can I ask some more questions?”

Malfoy waved a hand broadly in acceptance, chewing on his toast.

“Why are all the clothes in my size, and in my preferred styles?” This question had been burning her all morning. Clothes could be made to resize themselves, but everything in that wardrobe looked like it was bought in her size.

Malfoy choked on his toast and grabbed his teacup to wash it down. “Should have known you’d notice that.” A flush crept up his neck and stained his cheeks. “I got your sizes by getting a friend to ask around, that blonde girl you roomed with knew. And as for the styles, I just made a few notes on what you wore if I happened to see you when you weren’t in class and then sent Mirry to fill the wardrobe.”

“Oh, uh, thanks I guess. But why?”

“Granger, I had a whole year to ruminate on the fact that if I succeeded then I was going to have you staying here, and everything that came along with it. I hardly saw the need to have you dressed in paupers rags or fine robes. I figured that it would make you comfortable.” He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “Least I could do.”

Hermione frowned at her plate, which she had yet to eat a bite of. “Why _are_ you being so nice? You haven’t been nasty or called me names even once since I’ve been here.”

Malfoy looked away from her, apparently uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “I did have you kidnapped. I figure being a right prat like I usually am would be a bit beyond the pale. So I decided to put all my expensive etiquette training to use.”

Hermione hummed and took a bite of her eggs, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Why are you in here? You could have dumped me in here and left Mirry to take care of me.”

“The short answer is that I’m basically to make myself as scarce as possible right now, because the snake downstairs is somewhat annoyed with me for only completing half the task he gave me. My parents and Godfather told me to stay out of the way unless I want another Crucio or two.” He shrugged again. “I’m not supposed to leave the property, so this is a way to pass the time and stay out of the line of fire.”

Hermione felt sick. “They torture you?” She was breathless with how casual he sounded about it.

“Yes? I did fail to complete the second half of my task after all.” He raised one eyebrow at her, as if her shock was unexpected.

“Then how were you still rewarded? I don’t understand?” There were holes in this story and she needed to know. If he failed, why let him take her?

“My Godfather, Uncle Sev convinced the Dark Lord that he simply jumped the gun, and it was no failing of mine.” Malfoy poured himself some more tea. “It made the punishment a lot easier to bear and meant I got to keep the reward I asked for.”

“Uncle Sev? Severus Snape?! Did he… Was he the one who…” Hermione felt herself tearing up again and took deep breaths trying to control herself.

“Yes.” Malfoys voice was so soft she nearly missed it. “Mother made him take a Vow with her that he would… Complete the mission if I couldn’t do it. And I couldn’t. He came up right as I was about to drop my wand. I knew it would mean death for at least me and most likely my parents as well, but I couldn’t look Dumbledore in the face and kill him. So… Professor Snape did it instead and then sold a story that he was so eager for the chance that he completely forgot to let me try first.” He set his jaw and looked out the window, blinking rapidly.

Hermione started crying in earnest then, covering her face with her hands and rocking back and forth. If only she’d believed Harry in his suspicions of Malfoy and Snape. All year he’d known something was up, but she’d dismissed it, assuming that Malfoy was just too cowardly to do anything and insisting that Snape had Dumbledore’s trust. How naive she’d been.

Malfoy came around the table, and reached for her shoulder. She flinched away from him violently. “Don’t touch me!” Malfoy moved back, but stayed within reach of her. “This is so fucked up. I want to go home! I want my mum and dad!” She hadn’t allowed herself to think of her parents since arriving here and it felt like a knife through her chest now that she had. “Please let me go back home.” Her whole body was shaking with the force of her sobs, and though she was trying desperately to stifle the sound with her balled fists, but the grief and fear poured out of her with no end.

Malfoy crouched down where he was, trying to look at her face. “Granger, I can’t. I’m not just protecting my own hide here. At the moment _they_ are all convinced I’m using you for my own amusement. But if you get out and go home, then they’ll bring you _and_ your parents back here. And they won’t hand you over to me when they do.” His brows were furrowed in genuine seeming concern as he looked up at her.

Hermione continued to sob into her hands, whispering pleas to be let go. Malfoy stayed where he was, hunkered down on his heels, and watched her. She couldn’t deal with this, from being held captive to his oddly nice behaviour. Everything was so wrong, so incomprehensible.

Eventually, when her sobs turned into weak hiccoughs and sniffles, Malfoy spoke. “Granger, would you like to write you parents a letter? I can have Mirry deliver it.”

Hermione’s head shot up, and she blinked the remaining tears out of her eyes to see if he was serious. His face was in his indifferent mask again, so she couldn’t tell.

“Really? You’d let me?” She hated how weak and needy she sounded.

Malfoy nodded slowly. “I’ll go get some ink and parchment. I’ll bring extra so you can take notes on the books or write more letters.” Standing and stretching his legs out, Malfoy paused. “Not that it’s worth anything, but I regret all of it.” And then with a curt nod of farewell, he was gone again.


	5. Help me, Help you

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I don’t know what you were told, but there was a bit of a fight at the school. I don’t know exactly what happened, but during it I was grabbed and taken somewhere. I am safe and comfortable, and the person with me seems to just want to keep me that way. I don’t think you need to worry about me._

_I miss you both so much, and I wish I could be there with you. Perhaps you can use your retirement plan? To keep you busy._

_Just in case you are wondering whether I wrote this letter, Dads favourite patient is Mrs. Lancaster and Mum always steals exactly three of my chips._

_All my love,_

_Hermione._

Hermione handed the letter to Malfoy with a resentful sneer. “Is that okay?” She detested this reminder that as nice as he was apparently trying to be, she was still his prisoner.

Malfoy skimmed the letter before putting it in an envelope without looking at her. “Mirry?” The elf cracked in close enough to make Hermione jump. “Could you take this to Grangers home? Make sure absolutely no one knows you’ve gone there or where it is, ok? Oh, and that no one there sees you either.”

Mirry took the envelope in her long fingered hands and glanced at Hermione. “Is Miss Granger needing anything from home?”

Hermione was taken quite by surprise by the offer. “Oh. Uh, no thank you. But that is very kind of you.” No way in hell was she letting her prison start to feel like a home by filling it with her possessions.

Mirry offered her a token nod and turned her full attention back to Malfoy. “Anything else Master Malfoy?”

“Just the instructions I gave you before. And perhaps lunch when it’s time.” Malfoy dismissed the elf with a nod of his own.

When Mirry popped away, Hermione turned to see Malfoy looking at her, hands casually in his pockets.

“What?” His attention unnerved her on the best of days, this was a thousand times worse.

“Join me on the couch?” He sat down at one end, elbow propped on the arm and his head resting on his fist. “I figured you’d have more questions. And I have two for you afterwards if you’re up for it.”

“O…Kay.” Well that sounded suspect, but at least they might give her a clue as to his agenda. She lowered herself stiffly to the exact opposite side of the couch and gathered her thoughts. “Is Voldemort here?”

Malfoy flinched at her use of his name. “You shouldn’t use his name, there’s talk of making it Taboo. And right this moment, no. But he holds court here at least a few times a week and stays in the best guest room most nights.”

Hermione grimaced. “I’ll call him Tom then, seeing as that’s his actual name.”

“What, really?” Malfoy leaned towards her, all studied indifference gone from his face. He looked shocked and somewhat amused.

“Oh, yes. He was named for his father. His _Muggle_ father.” Hermione was quite pleased at the way Malfoy reared back and his face went totally lax in true shock.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ with relish. “Tom’s dear old mum had the hots for a local Muggle, so she drugged him to the gills with love potions until she got pregnant with wee baby Tom. She stopped the potions then, thinking he’d stay for the baby, but he ran off the moment he could.”

To her surprise, Malfoy began to laugh. “Oh this is ridiculous! All these wankers burning down the world in the name of blood purity, while they bow to a half-blood with daddy issues! Merlin, I wish I could tell my Aunt, just to see the look on her face.”

Hermione did think it was funny, but was unimpressed by Malfoy’s phrasing. “There’s nothing wrong with being a half-blood.” She sniffed.

“Merlin no, but the irony is amazing.” He sobered some and sighed. “Morganas left tit, this just makes everything so much more pointless.”

“It was completely pointless to start with, Malfoy.”

“You’re probably right there.” Malfoy rubbed his jaw in thought. “Any more questions?”

“Is there anything I should be wary of?”

“Aside from making sure you don’t leave this room? Not really. Mother and Father could get in here, if they remembered it existed. But Father has no wand right now, and would probably be too drunk to do anything more than vomit on your feet. As for Mother, she’s been trying to distract herself and pretend everything is fine. So she’d likely just try and talk to you like it’s a high tea. Or be scandalised that you don’t wear formal robes around the house.” Malfoys tone was light and forced.

“Your father is here?.” Hermione had thought he was in prison.

“He arrived shortly before… You.” Malfoy cleared his throat. “Anyway, prison disagreed with him, he’s not a threat to anything other than the liquor cabinet.”

Hermione shot him a withering look. “Malfoy, be serious. Am I in danger from your parents?”

“Not really, I know that neither of them knows where this room is, for starters. The room has a lot of notice-me-not wards on top of the security wards as well. Though I wouldn’t try to send up sparks to get attention or anything. Malfoy blood is needed to get in, or in the case of Mother, a Malfoy marriage bond. I could get you in here because I am the heir, even my parents can’t bring people in.” He caught and held her eyes with his, suddenly serious. “I have done my best to keep you safe. There is even a dungeon that occasionally sounds like you’re in there downstairs. It’s blood warded, and my parents have promised to steer clear of it.”

Hermione frowned and looked down. “What do they think of you asking to have me captured?”

“Mother thought I had a crush, which was mortifying. Father thought… He thought it was a good idea to put you in your place.” Malfoy looked heartily embarrassed by both of his parents’ thoughts on the matter. “I convinced Mother otherwise, but for obvious reasons did not disabuse Father of his notions.”

“Ah, yes. You mentioned that before.” Hermione was glad Malfoy had stopped his mother’s line of thinking. She had probably been horrified at the thought of her precious son cavorting with a Mudblood. “What is this room, anyway?”

“It used to be a potion lab a few hundred years ago. My ancestor was notoriously paranoid someone would steal his ideas, hence the heavy warding. Apparently once he inherited he had another lab built, which meant the wards stayed primarily for the Heir instead of the Lord. It sat unused until I found it by chance when I came home from fifth year to find my house occupied and needed a place to get out of the way.”

“How? You have to apparate in.”

Malfoy raised a pale brow. “Which I did.”

Sensing he wouldn’t elaborate further, she changed the topic. “Can everyone apparate on the grounds?”

He shook his head. “No, the Lord of the Manor has to give express permission if you aren’t blood or bonded. And the only people who have been given permission are _Tom_ and Aunt Bellatrix.”

“What about me? Am I going to be forced into doing anything?”

Malfoy recoiled away from her, and he looked scandalised. “Salazar, no! What do you take me for?!”

Hermione was confused for a moment before she realised what he thought she meant. “Oh god, I didn’t mean that! Though it’s nice to know you won’t do… That.” She waved her hands in front of her in denial. “No, I meant are you going to try and force me to betray my friends?”

Malfoy calmed down, but was still rather pink in the cheeks. “I hadn’t planned to, and no one else seems interested in you at the moment.” He huffed. “I really had just set this up to keep you out of harm’s way for a while.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought in to this. Is it really just about safety? No ulterior motive?” Hermione knew in her heart that there must have been more. Malfoy never did anything without it benefitting him.

His eyebrows twitched together in a tiny frown. “I said that already. Several times.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me. It’s so much risk for someone you don’t even tolerate usually.” She threw up her hands in frustration, subtlety was not her strong point.

“I didn’t have time to think it through. Mother told me about you being marked for death, and then a minute later I’m standing in front of the scaly prick himself. And once I’d asked there was no way I could go back on it. Not to mention I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time.” He grabbed his left arm convulsively.

Hermione gasped. “You _do_ have the Mark.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. Not by choice, but yes.” He grit his teeth and let go of his arm. “To answer your question, yes I put a reasonable amount of thought into this set up, but no I didn’t ask for you for nefarious purposes. All the planning came after the fact.”

Hermione chewed her bottom lip and stared at his arm. “Can I see it?”

“Really?” Malfoy glared at her. “Fine.” His tone was short and he glared at her while he unbuttoned the cuff on his black dress shirt and rolled up the sleeve.

The mark was truly ugly, a black stain twisting on his porcelain forearm, the snake twisting lazily out of the skulls mouth in a complicated knot. Hermione leaned over to get a good look, and noticed it was red and inflamed around the edges. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes. I have no idea why, because none of the others seem to have that problem.” He yanked his sleeve down. “Now, I’m being as transparent as possible here, so do you have any more questions?”

Hermione leaned back again and eyed him carefully, taking note of his rapidly fraying temper. “I think I’m done for today, can I ask again later?”

Malfoy relaxed, sliding into his indifferent façade again, and smirked at her. “I doubt I could stop you.” He leaned back into the arm of the couch again, outwardly nonchalant but Hermione got the impression he was still wound tighter than ever on the inside. “Are you up for me to ask you something now?”

Hermione hesitated before nodding. “Seems fair.”

“Would you like me to teach you Occlumency?”

Now that really did disturb her. “What, let you in my head? No thanks.” She scoffed. The only secret she had worth anything was the knowledge of the Horcruxes, and she really didn’t want Malfoy having access to that little titbit.

“Fair enough, thought I’d offer before I asked the next question.” He didn’t seem too put out, which was odd. “Do you think you can help take the Dark Lord down without leaving here?”


	6. A Pale Echo of Cruelty

Hermione was stiff as a board, staring at Malfoy who was reclined at the other end of the couch as though he’d just asked her nothing more serious than how her homework was coming. She didn’t dare answer his question, knowing this must be a trap.

“Surely I’ve dropped enough hints about how I feel about him by now?” Malfoy pointed down to the floor. “Those lunatics down there aren’t my allies, they’re terrorising me and my parents, desecrating my ancestral home with the things they consider ‘fun’.” He shook his head. “I’m no hero, and won’t be sticking my neck out. But, if you can use that brain of yours to help, then I will help you do it.”

“Is this some sort of trick?” Hermione couldn’t believe he thought this would work. “Two days ago you helped them kill Professor Dumbledore, and now I’m supposed to believe you want to help?”

“Two days ago, I was under threat of a slow and drawn out death for me and my mother. Now I’m being largely ignored, which gives me considerably more leeway to plot their collective demise. I also have some ideas, but I assume I’d need your help to realise them.” He arched his pale eyebrows at her. “I’m sure you can find some way to ascertain my sincerity.”

Hermione grabbed two handfuls of her hair and pulled, trying to ground herself to reality. “This is nuts. I have no idea what’s going on. I can’t trust you. The best way I can help is by getting out of here!” She felt herself getting mildly hysterical again and got up to pace in front of the fire, Malfoy watching her every step with keen silver eyes.

“No. But I can do things like have Mirry deliver letters.”

“After you read them I assume.” She spat bitterly at him, turning and staring him down with her hands on her hips. “Dammit, Malfoy. I can’t even ask you to just take veritaserum because you’re apparently a goddamn Occlumens. How the hell am I meant to trust you at all?” She shook her head in despair. “Can’t you just say I escaped, or I’m dead? Anything?” 

Malfoy rose and stood over her, he had nearly a foot of height on her, and she tried very hard not to quail under his piercing glare. “I said I wouldn’t be putting myself in danger, and if you escaped I would most definitely be in _fatal_ danger.” He hissed down at her, looking much more like the Malfoy she remembered.

“Wh-What if you came with me? The Order could hide you!” Her bottom lip began to tremble a little and she willed it to firm up.

“No. For multiple reasons, that is a terrible idea. Not the least of which is that they probably think I killed Dumbledore, or at least know that I led the Death Eaters into the castle. I doubt I’d have a warm welcome there.”

Hermione took an involuntary step back from the intensity of his seething gaze. “They wouldn’t harm you. They aren’t like that.”

“Agree to disagree. I’m not helping you escape, and I’m not leaving myself.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll leave you be for a while, think about how I can prove that I mean it when I say I want to help.” Another sharp nod, and he was gone.

Hermione sank bonelessly to the floor, chest heaving for breath like she’d just run a mile. The anger he’d shown was like an echo of the Malfoy she knew, the vicious little bully who spat poison when things didn’t go his way. The reminder that he still was that person under all the bizarre, stiff kindness he’d been showing her terrified her because she was almost entirely helpless and at his mercy right now. He might be saying he wanted to help, but he was also keeping her prisoner. God she was stupid, she should have stunned him when he gave her his wand. Now she had only her tiny amount of wandless magic, and she was fairly sure that wouldn’t be enough. Never mind the fact that he could probably physically overpower her if she did manage to get his wand again.

She was still sitting there staring at nothing when Mirry cracked in some time later. She scrambled up, scared that it might have been Malfoy. She’d worked herself into a right state imagining all the things he could do to harm her when she kept refusing to give him information. And she wouldn’t, he was more likely to give anything she gave him straight to Voldemort than deliver it to the Order like he was saying he would.

“Lunch is ready, Miss Granger. Mirry will tell Master Malfoy.” She left before Hermione could protest, leaving the bowls of what smelled like chicken soup to float themselves to the table.

Malfoy appeared moments later wearing a navy blue waistcoat over a deep grey shirt and slacks, and Hermione shrank back into the mantle of the fireplace involuntarily. He frowned at her and began walking over. “Are you ok?”

“Fine! I’m fine. Let’s eat, right?” Her voice came out squeaky and tight while she fled to the table and sat down.

“Alright then.” His voice was slow and he cocked an eyebrow at her in disbelief.

They ate in silence, Hermione barely managing to supress a flinch at every small movement he made. Eventually he sighed and clicked his tongue at her. “What on earth has gotten in to you? Is this about earlier?”

Hermione, to their mutual horror, burst into tears again.

Malfoy came around the table and stopped just short of her when she cringed away from him. “Granger…” He was apparently at a loss for words. “Are you scared of me?”

She curled in on herself, tucking her feet up in front of her on the chair.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a shit position to be put in.” He stepped a little closer and leant one hip on the table, crossing his arms and tucking his chin down into his chest. “If it’s any consolation, I’m bloody terrified too. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m sorry for my loss of control earlier.”

Hermione raised her head just enough to look at him, tears running down her face. He wasn’t looking at her and she saw his jaw was clenched at what he’d admitted. Tentatively, she unfurled just a little. “You re-really won’t h-hurt me?” She really hated that she just kept crying at him.

“Granger, _no_. I won’t be harming you. I went to all of this trouble to _keep_ you from harm.” Her ran his hands through his hair and groaned. “Look, this is my fault, I’ll own that. Every last fucked up bit of our current situation. But what other choices do you have than to trust me a little? To accept my help?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “Th-they’ll be fine w-without me.” Fresh tears leaked from her eyes as she willed herself to believe that. She knew Harry and Ron needed her, the three of them balanced each other’s strengths. “They’ll b-be f-fine.” She couldn’t convince herself, and began to cry harder. Great, heaving sobs tore from her, mourning her lost freedom and terrified for her friends.

She heard Malfoy sigh, and then he shifted along the table and began rubbing her back. “Shh, it’s ok. It’s all going to be ok. You’ll figure something out.”

Hermione didn’t flinch away this time, just cried her heart out until she was a terrible snotty mess. Malfoy offered her his silk handkerchief when her sobs grew quieter and she accepted it. “Dank you.” She cleaned her face a little and leaned back to look at Malfoy through swollen eyes.

He stopped rubbing her back and clasped his hands in front of him. “You’re welcome. I’m due to have tea with Mother soon, so I’ll give you some peace. See you tomorrow.” He stepped away from her and the table to give himself some room, then gave her a quick nod and apparated away.

Hermione dragged herself into the shower as soon as he was gone and stood under near-scalding water until the last of her tears were carried down the drain. Her heart felt broken, and the knowledge that so many people who would happily kill her for her blood were walking around in the manor below chilled her. She knew she was going to have to pull herself together though, she could grieve properly later. She’d give herself tonight to calm down, and begin plotting properly tomorrow.

When she walked out into the main room wrapped in a towel to get fresh clothes, she realised she’d have to be more careful and bring clothes to the bathroom with her, lest she give Malfoy an eyeful if he popped in while she was in the shower again, a thought which both oddly amused and horrified her. After quickly dressing in the wardrobe, she noticed that the lunch dishes were gone, replaced by a steaming teapot and some biscuits.

Hermione left the tea and biscuits, still not trusting Malfoy, and settled herself on the couch with the book from the night before. She’d been practicing the wand movements with her finger for an hour when a thought occurred to her. Setting the book aside, she rose to inspect the three bookshelves again. Books on healing, wards, defensive spells, occlumency, tracking magic, counter curses, revealing curses, healing potions, trapping magic, duelling, even some on the dark arts, and so much more. 

They were all books that could help her.


	7. Slither

When Malfoy returned for breakfast, Hermione was waiting for him on the couch reading a book on Occlumency.

“Did you pick all these books?” She looked up as soon as she heard him arrive.

“Good morning to you too, Granger.” He rolled his eyes and pulled out a seat at the table for her while Mirry set out a full English for both of them. “Yes, I picked all the books. I moved the majority of my private collection in here, the rest are from the family library. And before you ask, I checked all of them for curses and wards first.”

Hermione pointedly pulled out the other chair and sat herself again. “Good morning Malfoy and good morning to you Mirry.” Her greeting to the elf was significantly warmer. Malfoy seemed amused by her show of defiance.

“Good Morning Miss Granger. Master Malfoy, you stay here this morning. You promise.” Mirry wagged her long finger at him scoldingly before curtseying to them both and leaving with her usual brusqueness.

Malfoy rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed, before beginning to pour himself some tea.

“Why would you promise that?” Hermione sat down as well, reaching for the teapot once he was done.

“She’s being overprotective. Aunt Bellatrix decided to give me a lesson yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t a great deal of fun.” Hermione realised he looked quite pale and his hands were trembling slightly.

“What was the lesson on?”

Malfoy grit his teeth and stared at her over the rim of his teacup. “The Cruciatus. She thought I should be able to withstand it better.”

Hermione gasped in horror. “She what?! That’s awful!”

“I’m sure I mentioned before that they are terrorising us.” He put his teacup down carefully. “Look, Granger… You shouldn’t feel sorry for me. Consider it retribution for what I did, okay?”

“No. I don’t care how awful the things you did are, no one should be tortured. No one.” Brought up on charges though, now that’s another matter.

“Bleeding heart Gryffindor.” Malfoys voice lacked the mockery she’d usually expect with that. “But thanks, I guess.”

The rest of breakfast neither of them spoke until Mirry arrived to clear the plates.

“Um, Mirry, may I ask for some hair elastics please? The ones I found in the bathroom are a bit small for my hair.” Hermione had decided to start with small requests from the elf and work her way up. See how much she could get away with.

Mirry didn’t even glance at Malfoy before curtseying to Hermione. “Mirry will get Miss Granger some and bring them with lunch.” Hermione took that as a good sign.

“Thank you, Mirry. I appreciate it. And please, do call me Hermione.” Hermione smiled at her before Mirry popped away again.

Awkward silence settled over the pair of them as they sat at the table until Malfoy huffed and walked over to grab a book on defensive charms from one of the shelves and recline in his usual spot on the couch. Hermione gingerly joined him in one of the armchairs, and they read in tense silence for the rest of the morning. Malfoy left after lunch with another perfunctory nod to her, but returned the next day just before lunch. 

This became the pattern of their days, Malfoy would spend either the morning or afternoon in the room with her reading. He also spent almost every dinner with her. They mostly spent the time together in awkward silence, Malfoy no longer beginning conversations, but answering seemingly honestly if Hermione did. Hermione found him surprisingly forthcoming, and apparently quite honest. As time went on he softened to her, enough so that she wondered how much of his awful behaviour at school had been an act.

She learnt that the only Death Eaters in permanent residence were Bellatrix and Lucius, but there’s always a few more hanging around. That the Death eaters are starting to move, if slowly. She learnt that they’re all saying that muggle-borns steal their magic. That even when Voldemort isn’t in residence, the manor is still the base of operations. That they’re talking about beginning to hunt Muggles for fun. That they don’t really know where Harry is and that makes them all furious because they know it’s something magical stopping the knowledge.

She also learnt that Malfoy is a master occlumens who can get things past even Bellatrix and Voldemort while convincing them he isn’t hiding anything. That he never punishes Mirry unless he’s being watched and even then finds ways to circumvent it. His idea of casual dress is apparently a crisp buttoned shirt and trousers that probably cost more than most people’s entire wardrobes, but leaving off the waistcoat. And he found full robes cumbersome, avoiding wearing them as much as possible. That he avoided Bellatrix because whenever she catches him she always decides he needs another ‘lesson’ or two. That when he’s not using his sharp wit to hurt people, he’s surprisingly funny with a dry sense of humour. He is also surprisingly tactile, his first instinct whenever she has one of her crying jags is to pat her back or something similar, and the few times he had arrived visibly upset she had been able to calm him down with a quick hand on his shoulder. He was also strangely respectful of her situation, and would leave if she told him to or he began to lose his temper again.

Almost completely unwillingly, Hermione began to relax in his presence little by little. His scathing commentaries on the various Death Eaters seemed genuine, but she was still wary of his intentions. Every now and then he brought up the idea of her helping the order while staying where she is, and every time she balked at the idea of sending intelligence through him. He also discussed whatever either of them was reading at the time if she brought it up, offering intelligent opinions and perspectives. When she made a reference he didn’t understand that was rooted in Muggle culture, he asked questions and thought on her answers without unnecessary ridicule.

Mirry responded to most of her requests punctually and without comment, but the few times Hermione had asked for something that could have potentially helped her, the little elf had stared at her and answered with a very definitive “No.”

Hermione used her Malfoy-free time to practice her wandless magic. She didn’t practice anything destructive so as not to leave traces, but her wandless shield and summoning spells became quite good in her opinion, and she even managed a wandless Incarcerous spell on a chair. She also wrote a short letter to Harry and Ron saying that she was still safe and wishing them well, including the joke Ron once told that made her shoot pumpkin juice out of her nose to prove her identity. Her only moment of discomfiture was the embarrassment of asking Mirry to procure supplies for her period.

Three weeks after she was brought to the tower, Hermione was curled in bed reading _The Quiet Protection_ , a heavy book about hidden wards while attempting to drift off to sleep. Malfoy hadn’t been there all day, and she found that she missed his company a little. Near midnight she was beyond shocked when Malfoy apparated in dressed in an entirely black suit with his white hair standing around his head like he’d flown through a windstorm.

“Malfoy? What are-“ She didn’t get any more out, because he collapsed to his knees, buried his face in his hands and _howled_ like nothing she’d ever heard before. She threw herself out of the bed towards him on instinct, checking him for injuries. “Malfoy, what’s wrong?! Are you hurt?”

Malfoys arms shot out to wrap around her waist and he buried his face in her stomach and cried like he was breaking in two. Hermione had cried quite a lot in front of Malfoy, but he had never lost control in front of her like this. He started babbling “She’s dead.” And “Oh god, he killed her.” Over and over again, soaking the front of Hermione’s pyjama top with his frantic tears.

“Malfoy, who’s dead?” Hermione put trembling hands on his shoulders and pushed back just slightly to see his face.

Malfoy looked wrecked, his face ghastly white and tear stained, hair a mess and his suit rumpled. “T-The D-dark B-b-bastard killed h-her on the fu-fucking dinning t-t-table. I h-had to eat d-din-ner while th-the f-fucking m-monster snake _ate her!_ ” He released her waist and covered his face with his hands again, slumping down like a marionette that had its strings cut. “A-all sh-she did was teach M-Muggle St-studies!”

“Who- Oh _no_! Professor Burbage?” Hermione felt hot tears in her own eyes as she sank down to her knees too. She reached a hand out to Malfoy and he once again snapped his arms around her. This time he hid his face in the crook of her neck while he sobbed. She brought her own arms around his shoulders and cried too. She’d liked Professor Burbage, she was kind and wise. Even though she’d only taken the class for one year, Professor Burbage had always had time to stop and chat with her. She’d had time for _everyone_. The unfairness of it hit Hermione like a bludger as she and Malfoy cried themselves out on each other.

Eventually Malfoy pulled back, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his sleeves like a young child. “Sorry.” Was all he said.

“I understand… Are you okay?” Hermione levered herself up onto the couch. 

Malfoy joined her, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head into his hands. “No, I’m not. I didn’t want to go back to my rooms because I thought they might find me there and make me go _celebrate_ with them.” He turned his head a little and looked sidelong at her. “I’m sorry for this. It was just the first safe place I thought of.”

She looked at her hands twisting in her lap. “It’s alright, it’s your room after all.” She said quietly. “Do you need anything?” As though she had anything to give.

Malfoy turned to face her, his mercuric eyes flicking over her face. “Do you mind if I just stay here for a bit?” He looked so young and lost. Hermione hadn’t believed a word of his sudden change of mind until this moment. No one was this good an actor. Now she believed him, if only just a little.

“Sure.” She paused before adding. “Do you- Do you need a hug?” And holding her arms out slightly towards him.

“ _Yes._ ” Malfoy collapsed into her again, draping one arm around her shoulders and the other on the back of her head as he pushed his face into her ringlets. “I knew they were sick. I knew. But to see it…” He choked on his tears again. “She didn’t do anything _wrong_. She was just nice to kids and wanted to teach them about Muggles. It wasn’t even a mandatory class!”

Hermione smoothed her hands over Malfoys back, rubbing gently to soothe him. “I know. She was so nice to me. Nice to everyone.” She knew she was going to start crying again if she let herself, so she focused on calming Malfoy, murmuring reassurances that neither of them believed as she ran gentle hands over his back.

They sat there for a long time, Malfoys quiet tears slowly subsiding until he quietly started to sink back into the couch and Hermione realised he was falling asleep. Once his breathing evened out, she shifted his long frame to lie down as best she could and covered him with a light blanket. She smoothed his hair back from his face, then padded back to the bed to cry quietly into her pillow, until she fell into an exhausted sleep of her own.


	8. Healing Words

Hermione woke the next morning in the pre-dawn light. Malfoy was still on the couch and had clearly not had a peaceful rest, he looked just as bad as he had the night before. Deciding to let him sleep for a little longer, she grabbed some clothes from the wardrobe and quietly went to have a shower. Malfoy was still there when she came out, curled on his side and frowning in his sleep. She looked at the little bronze clock on the mantle; it was just past 6 in the morning. She should probably wake him up so he could go get changed and make sure his parents weren’t looking for him.

Reaching out to gently shake him awake, she thought better of it at the last moment. He’d been so traumatized last night that touching him when he was unaware was probably monumentally stupid. So she crouched down an arm’s length away before softly speaking. “Malfoy, it’s time to wake up.” When he didn’t stir, she tried again slightly louder. “Malfoy? You should wake up now.” Still not even a twitch. “Draco?”

Malfoys eyes slitted open and he murmured something unintelligible before groggily pushing himself up to sitting. “Wh’ time is it?” His voice was rough with sleep and crying, his eyes distinctly swollen as he rubbed them.

“A bit past 6. I thought you might need to go downstairs in case anyone came looking for you.”

Malfoy stretched in a semi-stifled yawn then dropped back into the couch and peered up at her muzzily. “N’ver realised how long your hair was ‘til I saw it wet.”

The non-sequitur startled a laugh from Hermione. “Yes well, all the curls do shorten it somewhat. Pavarti straightened it once last year and it reached my hips.”

He hummed and then reached up his sleeve for his wand. “Want it dried?” When she nodded, he cast The Maids Vanity and stowed his wand back in its holster. Yawning again, he stood up in front of her, cracking his spine as he went. “Thanks for last night Granger. You had no reason to be so nice to me, but I appreciate it.” She may as well have been letting him crash on the couch after a nights heavy drinking with how casual he tried to keep his tone.

“It’s honestly no problem. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.” She touched the sleeve of his jacket. “We’ll talk more next time you come back, yeah?”

Malfoy swallowed and looked away from her face, still attempting to look indifferent. “Sure. I’ll be back for lunch.” And with his usual nod, he was gone.

When Mirry came to drop off breakfast at seven, Hermione tried to engage her in conversation as usual, asking how her morning had been. Usually she was given a dismissive answer, but today Mirry told her about how the kitchens were all aflutter because the pastry elf had tried something new and they had all had a piece to test it. Hermione felt so happy that Mirry hadn’t dismissed her then left immediately that she nearly hugged her.

“Miss Granger looked after Master Malfoy last night?” Mirry fixed her huge green eyes on her and cocked her head. “Mirry was sent away when she wanted to help after dinner. Master Malfoy was very heart-sick.”

Hermione swallowed heavily. “Yes, um, the woman who died was a teacher from school. Making Malfoy witness that was beyond cruel.” She accepted a cup of tea from her little companion and tried to calm her shaking hands. “I wasn’t able to do much, but he stayed here to get away from it.”

“Master Malfoy needs more kindness. His home very dark place right now.” Her huge ears twitched and quivered. “This room only light left.”

Hermione looked around at the huge windows and cosy furniture. Personally she was beginning to climb the walls with how trapped it was making her feel. “I can see how you could say that.” She guessed this might feel like a refuge if you were stuck with Voldemort and Bellatrix as company.

“Mirry does say that.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at Hermione and put her hands on her hips. “Miss Granger needs to understand Master Malfoy is trying very hard to be nice, and should try hard too. Enough pressure on his shoulders.” Hermione was reminded forcefully of a tiny, squeaky Mrs Weasley.

She decided not to point out that it’s not nice to hold her captive. “Er, okay. I’ll try?”

Mirry sniffed and dusted off todays lavender tea towel. “He good boy. Mirry look after him since he was little, and he not deserve what happening to him this morning.”

Hermione grabbed Mirrys thin arm in alarm. “What’s happening to him?”

Mirry looked her square in the eye with a fierce expression on her small face. “Lord Malfoy unhappy with him. Say he weak for caring what happened to the lady last night. He gets cane again.”

Releasing the elf, Hermione’s lips tightened and she closed her eyes. “God, they’re all so awful. Tell Malfoy to come here afterwards if he wants. I’ll keep him company.”

“Thank you Miss.” Mirry briefly laid her long fingered hand over where Hermione’s had clenched into the fabric of her linen pants then left her to eat alone.

Hermione had barely finished her breakfast when Malfoy reappeared, looking like he’d had a good shower and change, but his face was blotchy and he was listing to one side.

“Granger, Mirry said you needed me, is everything ok?” Malfoy leant rather heavily on the back of the couch and looked her over cautiously.

“Uh, I just said to tell you that you didn’t have to wait for lunch. Are _you_ ok? You don’t look so good.”

Malfoy grunted and crossed his arms with a not quite suppressed wince. “Meddling chit. What did she say to you?”

Hermione twisted her fingers together in front of her. “You shouldn’t be mad at her, she didn’t say anything bad.”

“Oh for- I’m not going to punish her, alright. Right now I’m just assuming that she is playing her games and I’d like to know what she’s up to.” He looked like a strong wind could knock him over, Hermione presumed that he was keeping himself upright on pure pride alone.

“She told me you were being hurt, and that you didn’t deserve it.” Hermione whispered.

Malfoy chewed his cheek and didn’t say anything, staring hard out the window.

“Malfoy… Do you need healing?” She crossed to stand in front of him, trying to check for injuries.

“Why Granger, didn’t know you cared.” Malfoy was visibly in pain despite his snarky tone, so his attempt at deflection failed miserably.

“Oh for Merlins sake Malfoy, just let me help you! I knew basic healing before, and you set up a bloody library of books on it here to boot!” Hermione stomped a foot, feeling a bit childish in her outburst.

Malfoys eyes widened and he held up his hands to ward her off instinctively. “Alright, alright.” He reached into his sleeve for his wand and then hesitated. “Promise not to hex me?”

Hermione started throwing her hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way. “I didn’t last time you gave me your wand, did I?”

Reversing his grip on the wand, Malfoy held it out to her. “Okay, good point. Where do you want me?”

“Where’s the damage? Mirry said something about a cane?” She took the wand, holding it down by her side so she didn’t appear to be threatening him. She noted that this time it came to her easier, feeling less strange in her hand.

“Of course she did.” Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’re mostly on my back, but there is one on my left hip that hurts like the blazes.” 

“Okay then. I’ll need your shirt off so I can see. And…” She looked around for the best place to heal him. Seeing the dining chairs, she dragged one over. “Straddle this, and lay your arms across the back.”

Malfoy smirked at her and opened his mouth, but without looking at him she cut him off before he could make the joke on the tip of his tongue. “Time and a place, Malfoy. Just do as I tell you.”

Malfoy took off his crisp dove grey shirt, and Hermione sucked in a dismayed breath to see a few thin stripes of blood on the back of it. When she walked around to see his back, her knees went weak. His back had at least a dozen fresh welts, several of which were bleeding. But worse was the evidence of other canings. There was old bruises and thin red or white scars criss-crossing his whole back from nape to hips, and disappearing into his beltline. He was also almost disturbingly skinny, his ribs too prominent for someone his age and fitness level.

She ran gentle fingers over a scar far from the fresh marks. “Oh _Draco_.”

He stiffened under her fingers. “No need to pity me. It is what it is.”

Hermione did pity him though. For all he wouldn’t let her leave, for all that he’d been a prat to her for so long, his back tells a story that makes her heart ache. “How long?”

His voice was deep and quiet when he finally answered. “He stopped letting Mother heal me between fourth and fifth year. I’m sure you can guess why.”

“God and Merlin, I’d dearly like to punch your father one day.” Hermione continued inspecting his back to catalogue the injuries.

Malfoy huffed a quiet laugh. “Once that would have made me hex you, now I think you’d have to get in line behind me.”

Hermione pointed the borrowed wand at his back. “Hold still for me. _Sarcio Plagas_.” Drawing her borrowed wand down each bit of broken skin, she watched them knit together until there was just a tiny white line left. She then turned her attention to the bruising. “This next spell won’t do quite as well on the welts and bruises as a Bruise Paste, but it will make you a lot more comfortable.”

Malfoy nodded and peeked over his shoulder at her, sharp jaw clenched. “Appreciated.”

“ _Contusum Perpurgo_.” Hermione recited the incantation over each bruise she could see until they were all the ugly yellow of a weeks old bruise. “Is that better?”

Malfoy stretched his arms out and twisted his back. “Much. Thank you Granger.” As he moved to stand though, he winced. She could see deep red bruising rising out of the waistband of his pants as he did.

“Your hip, did you want me to do that as well?” She bent a little to get a better look, hovering her fingers over the bruise without touching.

Malfoy coloured a little. “Oh, uh. You don’t have to.”

“Malfoy, don’t be daft. You said it was the worst one.” Hermione crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Just show me.”

Malfoy glowered at her. “Fine.” He quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his trousers a little then pushed down one side of them to expose his hip.

Hermione sucked in a breath. “Malfoy, that’s awful.” The bruising was black and deep red, spreading from the crest of his hip. Examining it with careful fingers, she shuddered to think how much it was hurting him.

“Not what I want to hear after getting my kit off.” He grumbled.

“Don’t be gross. No, I meant that I think the bone might be cracked. Hold on to the back of the chair, this may hurt a little.” She aimed her wand at the livid bruising. “ _Brackium Emendo._ ”

Malfoy winced and then sighed in relief. “Merlins left bollock, that feels so much better.”

“Hmm. _Contusum Perpurgo_.” The bruise on his hip didn’t fade quite as well as the ones on his back, only easing to a lighter purple. “I think that’s the best I can do for now, maybe you can sneak some bruise paste later. Here’s your wand back.” She held out the wand to him, wishing she could use it to apparate herself out, or Imperio him to do it. But she knew she couldn’t do the former and wouldn’t have the heart to do the latter, not after seeing his back. Or the silvery scars bisecting his chest that she knew were from Harry.

He put his wand back in its leather holster with a small grateful smile before picking up his shirt, grimacing at the sticky bloodstains. “Thanks Granger. Mirry!” The elf cracked in and curtsied. “Seeing as you’ve decided I should be up here, mind grabbing me a clean shirt?”

“At once Master Malfoy.” Her eyes darted over to Hermione. “Thank you Miss Granger.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome?” Hermione blushed at the thanks.

When Mirry had left Malfoy teased her. “My, my Granger! I get shirtless for you and nothing, but my elf says thanks and you blush like a school girl.” His smirk was wholly amused, without the nastiness it used to hold at school.

She resolutely turned her back to him and picked up the book she’d abandoned at the end of her bed last night. “Sod off, Malfoy.”


	9. Returned to Your Hand

Three days later, Malfoy burst into the room with a sense of urgency and shoved his wand into her hand. “Send your Otter to whoever is in charge. Tell them Fletcher betrayed them.”

Hermione stared dumbfounded at the wand. “What on earth is going on?”

Malfoy paced the room, running his hands through his moonlight hair. “I don’t know any details, I just saw Rookwood and Uncle Sev walking someone called Fletcher out and thanking him for bringing them information on something to do with Potter. I got out of there before I was seen.”

Hermione jumped up, furious. “Shifty little prick?” At Malfoys nod, she snarled and felt her hair lift and spark. “Mundungus, that little toad! _Expecto Patronum!_ Moony, Mundungus has betrayed the Order, he’s been spotted passing information to Death Eaters. Change any plans he’s involved in.” The Otter shrank and zipped through the nearest wall. “Thank you. Thank you so much Malfoy.” Hermione threw her arms around his chest and squeezed. “You probably just saved lives.”

Malfoy awkwardly patted her shoulder, two spots of pink on his high cheekbones. “Uh, I guess I have to atone somehow.”

Stepping back, Hermione smiled at him eagerly. “Draco! You’re right, we _can_ help like this! Do you know anything more? We can tell the Order any plans, forewarn them!”

“Maybe. I’ll have to check some things first.” He clenched his fists by his sides and scowled at a point off to the side of her right shoulder. “Do you still want to leave?”

Hermione felt the smile fall from her face. “Yes. I really do.”

Malfoy nodded tightly. “Okay. Do you really think your Order friends wouldn’t kill me?”

Reaching for his hand, Hermione tried to look him in the eye. “Malfoy, do you want to come with me?”

Malfoy looked at the hand she was holding and then at her face, he looked broken and vulnerable again. “I think I have to. I wanted to protect Mother, but she’s refusing to do anything. She says it will all work out while I’m being tortured and threatened. She even told me yesterday to just bear with it while I shook after Bellatrix spent a good fifteen minutes using Cruciatus on me while she battered my Occlumency walls as part of her sick lessons. And I’m not cut out to spy, even with my skills in Occlumency.” His hand tightened around hers. “I’m just… I’m almost as scared of going as I am of staying.”

Hermione nodded. “Okay, how about this, just before we leave I’ll send a Patronus warning that I’m bringing you? We can set up to take you somewhere safe and have only someone trusted meet us there.”

He chuckled darkly. “Thought about it already, I assume?”

Tucking some hair behind her ear she dropped his hand. “Um, yes actually. More seriously since the other day.”

Malfoy groaned and ran his hand through his hair. “Of course. Look, I’ll confirm some things and then we will try and get out. I’ve heard whispers of something big happening soon, and once I have the date we can try to leave while everyone is distracted. We could probably manage to get a warning to your friends as well.”

Hermione hugged him again. “You’re serious! We’re going to leave! I’m getting out and seeing everyone!” She spun away from him, giddy and laughing. Malfoys face turned from broken to bemused as he watched her. “Thank you. Thank you!”

“No problem Granger. May I have my wand back? I need to start getting organised if we’re going to do this.” He held out one slim hand to her and she passed over his wand, still smiling giddily at him. “I’ll see you again tonight for dinner. Call Mirry and give her a list of anything you think we’ll need.” He hesitated after giving her his usual sharp nod of goodbye, then leant down and kissed her cheek briefly. “Thank you for giving me hope that I’ll survive this mess.” Then he disapparated without stepping away.

Hermione stood very still for a moment before shaking herself out of her shock that Draco Blasted Malfoy had kissed her cheek and called gently for Mirry. “Mirry?”

“Miss Granger calls?” The elf looked quite surprised, Hermione had never called her before, preferring to wait until she came to deliver food or Malfoy called her for something else to make any requests.

“Yes, how are you today?”

“Mirry is well. Does Miss Granger want something?” Mirry began to look a little miffed at Hermione apparently just wanting to make small talk.

“Oh yes, I’ve run out of parchment, would you mind getting me a stack please?”

“Of course Miss Granger.”

When Mirry returned with the stack of parchment, Hermione told her she’ll have a list of things she would need later, and Mirry _beamed_ at her. “Absolutely. For Miss Hermione and Master Malfoy, anything.”

Hermione got the distinct feeling that the elf knew exactly what they were about to get up to.

By the time Malfoy returned just before dinner Hermione had a list ready. She handed it to him and he read the beginning of it aloud.

“Charmed tent, preserved food, dittany, healing and nutrient potions, soaps, fire starters, hard-wearing muggle clothes for us both, hiking shoes, four sleeping bags, maps. Helga’s cankles, are you planning a camping trip?” He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

Hermione chewed her lip and decided to show a little trust in this new Malfoy. “Hopefully not, but what we have to do may require some extended camping out while we search for it anyway.”

Malfoy instantly grasped how much trust she just showed in him. She had not once dropped a single hint about anything to do with the Order or Harry before. His eyes widened and he nodded. “Okay then, I’ll add some items as well, if you don’t mind?” When she agreed he took her quill and added things like knives for hunting or harvesting and a few other helpful potions and charmed items. She noted that everything he added was practical, none of it superfluous.

When Mirry brought a dinner of truly spectacular mushroom risotto, and even a bottle of dry white wine, Hermione gave her the edited list. “Mirry, can you discretely get us these things without anyone knowing? And… Two leather pouches, about yay big? Preferably with shoulder straps?” She motioned her hands to show a bag the size of an average muggle clutch, small and discrete.

Mirry smiled her big toothy smile again. “Of course Miss Hermione! Mirry will bring everything over the next day, slow so no one notice.” Curtseying to Malfoy, the elf left with her wide smile still fixed in place.

“Finally got her to use your name, hmm?” Malfoy looked hugely amused by this development.

“Yes. She’s lovely, and I quite like being called Hermione over ‘Miss Granger’.” She primly took a bite of her risotto.

“She must really like you.” Malfoy mused, then pulled a roll of deep grey fabric out of his trouser pocket and held it out to her. “I come bearing gifts.”

Hermione curiously took the roll from him and began to unwind it, and from its depths clattered a length of vine wood carved with delicate vines. She looked up from it to see Malfoy actually smiling at her.

“I got it this afternoon. I carved a replica to replace it so no one would notice it missing.” He pointed to the soft pile of fabric. “And this is an under shirt woven with some simple protection spells. It will protect from minor to moderate curses for a while.”

Hermione snatched up her wand and pointed it at the wine bottle. “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” When the bottle rose gracefully to hover a full foot off the table, she launched herself out of her chair and threw herself into Malfoys arms. “Thank you thank you thank you! Oh Godric this is amazing!” Without thinking she kissed both his cheeks before tightening her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder to cry happy tears.

Malfoy smoothed his hands down her back and settled them around her waist. “You’re welcome Granger. It was yours in the first place, and I’m glad to return it to where it belongs.”

After a minute Hermione released his neck and stepped back, still smiling and still clutching her wand like she’d never let it go again. “Thank you Draco. Seriously. I know this counts as sticking your neck out.”

Draco waved her off. “Don’t mention it. I get the feeling we won’t be here long anyway. Besides, they have Pettigrew looking after the confiscated property and he hasn’t even looked in the room in weeks.”

Hermione grinned. “I hope not! Oh! Now I can charm the bags without asking for your wand or getting you to do it!”

Malfoy shot her a teasing smirk. “And now you can do your hair yourself, too.”

Hermione laughed, delighted and actually happy for the first time since she came to this room. As they finished the dinner then moved to read on the couch in companionable silence late into the night, neither of them put the wine bottle down on the table.


	10. Preparation

Mirry delivered everything on the list over the next day and Hermione set herself to sorting it out and charming the two bags with Undetectable Extension Charms and Featherweight Charms. Malfoy’s was dark grey dragonhide stamped with crossed wands in silver, hers was a soft white Zouyu hide embossed with mugwort and lavender. By dinner that night everything on the list and all the books from the shelves were in the bags. 

Everything Mirry provided was of high quality, and Draco had dropped off a bag of enough Galleons to make her head spin after she’d finished her lunch. When she suggested muggle currency too, he surprised her by bringing decent sized stack of crisp £100 bills immediately, saying that he had a stash under his bed from when he and Theo had gotten curious once in third year and traded it for Galleons with a Ravenclaw in seventh year. When Hermione questioned whether his parents would notice how much money he was spending all at once, he’d raised an amused eyebrow and informed her that this was all from his personal account.

Draco also gave her a holster for her wand that strapped onto her forearm like his, white Zouyu hide to match her new bag and lined with Acromantula silk for comfort. It was charmed so that no matter the length of her wand it would fit perfectly and she could flex her wrist a certain way to draw it one handed in an emergency.

Draco didn’t return meals that day, instead spending the day skulking around the house and trying to find any worthwhile information to bring with them to the Order. Hermione made him promise to use a Disillusionment Charm if he went anywhere he wouldn’t usually go to minimise the chances of the escape plan falling through. 

When Draco arrived for dinner he was tense and frustrated. “I couldn’t find much. I know something is happening tomorrow night, but I don’t think we’ll be able to sneak out then. The big whatever-it-is seems to be coming, but I just don’t know exactly when yet. Just that we should probably be ready to go on a moment’s notice.” He carded his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Salazar, I wish I could take Mother with us.” His face fell into the wrecked look that he wore whenever he thought of her once again.

“She won’t come?” Hermione reached across the table to offer her hand to him, knowing that touch grounded him.

Draco dropped a hand into hers and held it gently. “No. Worse, if I so much as hint at running she’d almost certainly tell Father. And he would absolutely turn me over to increase his standing, sole heir or not.” He scoffed. “He’s more of a coward than even me.”

“Draco, you aren’t a coward. You were put in an impossible position. Could you have refused? Maybe, but then they’d probably have killed you and forced someone else to do it.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “And it’s hardly cowardice to be planning to defect like this. You could be choosing to just keep your head down and not rock the boat, but instead you’re actively trying to find out what Tom is plotting so you can turn that over to the Order.”

He turned his head away and swallowed thickly, his Adams apple bobbing . “Thanks… Hermione.”

She gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze before reclaiming it to finish her dinner. “You’re welcome Draco.”

After dinner was done and the plates cleared away by a cheerfully humming Mirry, they sat side by side on the couch to discuss how best to actually go about their escape. Draco drew a basic map of the Manor and its grounds, marking safer routes and hiding places for her in red ink just in case something went wrong and they got separated. He took her to the window and pointed out over the grounds to show her where the wards ended, telling her that they’d apparate away from just beyond them so that Lucius wouldn’t be alerted that someone had apparated directly out of the property.

Hermione told him that the next morning she was going to send her patronus to someone to warn them that she’ll be coming to meet them soon, and that something is afoot and the Order should be wary. She agreed not to say who she would be bringing with her just yet, leaving it at an unspecified ‘defector’, as Draco was sure that if she mentioned who she was bringing the Order would attempt to rescue her immediately and be slaughtered. She also gave Draco his bag, saying he should keep it on him at all times, just in case they have to leave in a hurry. Draco agreed readily, saying that it would be soon regardless of what’s going on.

Mirry brought them a pot of chamomile tea and some biscuits after they’d been plotting for an hour or so. When she left Hermione sat back with her tea and fixed Draco with a determined stare. “We should bring Mirry. Or free her. I shudder to think what would happen if she was left here.”

Draco looked startled for a moment before he peered into his own cup of tea. “You’re right, the other house elves are already being treated pretty poorly, and I’ve noticed it getting worse. I’ll call her and ask what she wants to do.” He looked towards the fireplace. “Mirry?”

Mirry appeared right in front of the couch, making Hermione nearly spill her tea. “Yes Master Malfoy?”

“Mirry, do you know what Hermione and I are doing?” Draco’s tone was gentle as he talked to her.

“Mirry knows. Mirry is very happy you is leaving, this place bad for you now.” She clutched her lurid pink tea towel over her heart. “Mirry want you happy.”

Hermione was touched by how much this little elf loved Draco. Poor Dobby had been so traumatised by this place that she’d been sure that any elf owned by a Malfoy must’ve had a horrific life. Yet here was an elf that loved and respected Draco, and sassed him without fear of punishment.

“Hermione and I have been talking, and we’d like to offer you a choice. We can take you with us, or we can free you to go your own way. Would you like that?” Draco put a hand on Mirrys shoulder.

Huge tears formed in Mirrys gigantic eyes and her ears started twitching wildly. “Mirry never want clothes. _Never_. Mirry come keep Master Malfoy safe and clean.” 

Draco smiled at her. “I’m glad you’ll be coming with us Mirry. One question though, is there any way that anyone else from here can command you without my permission?”

“The Lord and Lady Malfoy can, but Mirrys contract is to Master Malfoy alone, so if he take permission from them, then they can’t make Mirry do anything. Not even a single dish.” Mirry looked rather pleased by this concept as she dashed the tears from her eyes and smiled toothily at Hermione and Draco.

Draco nodded. “Okay Mirry, then I rescind all permissions to command you from everyone but myself and Hermione Granger.” He smiled at Hermione quickly before turning back to Mirry. “Is that good enough?”

Mirry nodded frantically. “Mirry go and pack a bag for herself. Make sure no other elf sees.” 

Hermione laughed quietly at the eagerness with which she apparated away. “I’m so glad she’s coming with us.”

Draco looked at her with a wry smile. “She’s pretty good value.”

Hermione turned her body to face him fully, resting her head on the back of the couch and tucking her legs up under her, resting her tea on her bent knee. “You’re so different here. You’re actually really good company yourself.” She smiled at the look of surprise on his face.

“Thanks, uh, you too.” He mirrored her posture in his own way, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and his head on his closed fist. “Makes me wish I’d tried to be your friend sooner, to be honest. Instead of kidnapping you and forcing you to be my friend after years of dedicated bullying.” His dry smile made her burst into peals of laughter.

“Oh gosh, yes! Perhaps just say hello to people next time you want to make a friend?” She kept giggling until Draco tucked a piece of hair that escaped her haphazard braid behind her ear, the look in his stormy eyes so intense her breath caught in her throat. They both froze in the moment, her staring up at him with lips slightly parted and his elegant fingers just barely brushing the skin below her ear.

Both came to their senses at the same time, Draco snatching his hand back and Hermione spinning to sit facing fully forward while trying to hide her blush from him with the remains of her tea.

“Right, I better go down to bed then. Who knows how busy tomorrow will be!” Draco stood off the couch and then paused, looking down at Hermione with wide eyes and a pink flush climbing his cheeks “Um, Goodnight Hermione.”

“Uh, yeah, Goodnight Draco. Will I see you tomorrow?” She had no idea where to look and gave him an awkward smile while staring intently at his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ll pop up for breakfast. Um, night then.” He stepped jerkily away and apparated out.

Hermione carefully put down her empty tea cup and put her hands over her mouth. She stayed like that in the flickering firelight until her brain could reboot enough that she could get herself to bed.


	11. Defect

The next morning when Draco arrived for breakfast, Hermione was talking intensely with Mirry. “Is there no way they’d accept?” Hermione sounded wounded and worried, while Mirry looked wistful.

“Accept what?” Draco looked between the two of them and Hermione offered him a wan smile.

“Morning Draco. I was asking Mirry if we could free the other house elves. She says they won’t go.” She bit the inside of her lip. “I just wish I could help them.”

Mirry patted Hermione’s knee comfortingly. “Miss Hermione has large heart but other house elves think staying here better than clothes. They not thank you if you try.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “That’s so depressing.”

Draco hesitated a second before rubbing her back gently. “I know, but we can’t force it on them. Mirry is right, they’d be devastated if we forced clothes on them.”

Sighing, Hermione turned to sit at the table. “I know, I just hate it. No one should be treated like that.” She frowned up at him. “Do you remember Dobby?”

Draco opened his mouth to answer but Mirry interrupted. “Yes! Mothers brother. Lord Malfoys elf, he very sad a lot.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock and she looked carefully at Mirry, realising that her eyes and nose looked very much like Dobby’s. “Oh! I should have guessed! He’s very brave you know.”

Mirry looked torn. “He not obey well. Punished a lot.”

“I know, but I’m very glad he didn’t obey Lucius. He tried very hard to save my friend Harry. And freedom seems to suit him.” One side of her mouth quirked in a fond smile as she thought of the exuberant elf with his mismatched socks and teacozy hats.

Mirry twisted her fingers hard. “Mirry is glad Dobby happy now.” She quietly curtsied and left, leaving Draco and Hermione in tense silence.

“Hermione-“

She cut him off with a raised hand and a half-hearted smile. “I wanted you here before I sent the Patronus. Are you ready?”

Draco heaved a sigh and flicked his fingers in a graceful gesture of acquiescence. “Ok, go ahead.”

Hermione conjured her wispy otter and quickly gave it her message. “Moony, the Death Eaters have something big planned. We can’t pinpoint when or exactly what, but it’s happening very soon. When it happens we’ll come join you. I will be bringing my source of information with me, a defector. I’ll see you soon.” Hermione felt a tear fall from her lashes as she watched the otter condense and phase through the window. She felt Draco step next to her as she stared out at the gardens, bathed in crisp morning light.

“You okay?” He gently ran the back of one finger down her bicep, not looking at her.

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded a little choked so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Yeah. Just missing everyone. And…” She looked up at him with a small amount of trepidation. “Before we go to the Order… I need to go see my parents. There’s something I have to do.”

Draco turned his head to look down at her, one lock of silvery hair falling into his eyes. “Alright, do you want me to join you or wait elsewhere?”

Hermione drooped, hair still tousled from sleep concealing her face. “I don’t _want_ to be alone, but I need to be to do this. Maybe you can just wait outside for me?” Her tone was plaintive and slightly hopeful. But undercut with something so incredibly sad it made Draco circle an arm around her.

Draco frowned slightly. “Of course. Are you alright though?”

“I’ll be fine. Just missing people, like I said.” She firmed her resolve and turned to go sit at the table and pick at the selection of pastries Mirry had provided.

Draco eased himself into the chair across from her, eyeing her speculatively. “I’ll just drop it then.” He chewed thoughtfully on a blueberry Danish and leaned back indolently in the chair. “I’ve got a list. All the people who’ve come skulking around the manor. One copy for each of us.” He gestured between them with his Danish. “Even if they change all their plans when we leave, knowing who’s been hanging around here might help.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “That would help. I’m certain that the warning about Mundungus was vital. Who knows what havoc he could have inflicted? Nobody quite trusted him, but he was still involved in a lot of things.” Abandoning her croissant, she leaned forward and rested her head on the table with a thunk. “I just wish I knew what the hell was going on tonight. I’m going mad knowing that there are plans afoot but having no clue what they could possibly be.”

Draco leaned over to pat her head with his free hand. “Can’t know it all, I guess.” He shot her a lopsided smirk when she glared up at him. “I still haven’t found out anything, but I will try to skulk around a bit more today.” Downing the remains of his coffee, Malfoy stood and stretched. “I’ll see you for lunch. Try to rest up today, Hermione.” His smirk became a small smile before he stepped away and disapparated.

Hermione, did not in fact, relax. She flitted about the tower room, packed and re-packed her little bag, and tried to settle down with at least a dozen of the books before tossing them back into the bag. She eventually ended up sitting cross-legged on the bed idly tracing the flowers carved into the headboard with a fingertip and brooding.

She hoped that when she arrived at her parents’ home they would be long gone, had taken her hint about retirement and left to Australia. But she knew her parents, and she knew that they’d still be at home, waiting for news of her. She also knew that no matter how she tried, they wouldn’t understand how dire circumstances were. They’d never quite understood how dangerous the magic world could be, never taken it fully seriously, seeing the damage done as reversible by simply using more magic. Even when Hermione was injured in the Department of Mysteries, they’d convinced themselves it was all over with because a few arrests were made and she seemed whole and healthy. She’d never told them how many potions she took daily for months afterwards.

She knew she was going to have to put her contingency plan in to place. It made her heart ache like someone was tearing it from her chest, but she knew the pain of them refusing to leave and then winding up dead solely for the crime of being her parents would be infinitely worse. It was likely that once her escape was discovered Death Eaters would immediately descend on them, so she’d have to be fast with it too. She’d practiced all the charms she needed over and over once Draco returned her wand. She just hoped she was ready to do what needed to be done.

Draco’s arrival just before lunch was once again dramatic. He came flying over to the bed as soon as his feet hit the ground and grabbed her arm urgently, shaking like a leaf. “We have to go tonight!” His eyes were wide and wild, darting around her face.

“What’s going on?” Hermione put a hand over the hand he’d grabbed her with, reaching for her wand with the other.

He lurched back, running his fingers through his hair and making it stick up at crazed angles. “I just got a summons. The big thing that’s happening, it’s happening on august first and I’m apparently going to be part of it. To _prove my worth._ As my twat of a father says. And-” He broke off and paced around the room like it was _his_ cage. “Are you ready to go? I don’t think that tonight’s event will be as all-consuming as the one coming so there’s still a risk of running in to someone, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

Hermione pointed to her Zouyu hide bag, hanging off the bed head. “I am, everything is packed and sorted. Do we need to alter the plan?”

“No. I think it will still work. Apparating into my rooms and Disillusioning, then leaving through the family garden.” His pacing brought him to stand in front of her again. “It will work. We’ve planned the route and backups, we just need to be extra careful.”

Hermione took his hand in hers and pulled him down onto the bed next to her. “It will be okay. You’re doing the right thing, and you and I are the top two students in our year. We’ve planned this, and thought it out to the best of our abilities.” She looped an arm around his shoulders to comfort him. “What time do you want to leave?”

Draco relaxed into her, looping his own arm around her waist with a sigh. “I think the Manor will be mostly deserted by eight, so we’ll leave 15 minutes after that.” Resting his cheek on the top of her head he sighed again. “I don’t know how you’re being so calm right now. I’m petrified.”

Hermione tilted her head to a more comfortable angle under his chin and shifted her arm down to rest her hands in her lap before she answered. “I’m really not. I just know that we need to do this correctly to have a chance in hell of getting away from here.”

“We’ll manage, Hermione. I have faith in you.” He tightened his arm around her a little and they lapsed into silence.

When Mirry brought lunch for them, her little eyebrows raised at the pair of them in amusement. “Is Mirry interrupting?”

Hermione blushed scarlet at the insinuation and Draco suffered a sudden coughing fit that conveniently made him lean away from her. Hermione scampered over to the table and inspected the lunch. “No, that’s quite alright Mirry! Um, we wanted to talk to you anyway.” Her voice was squeaky enough to make her grimace.

“Mirry, we are moving up the plans to tonight at just past eight. You’ll still meet us in the family garden just as we planned though.” Draco pulled one of the chairs out and waited for Hermione to sit before taking his own seat. “Are you prepared to leave?”

Mirry twitched her ears and curtsied to him. “Mirry has been ready since one hour after you asked her to accompany you.”

Hermione put a hand out to her. “It will be wonderful to have you with us Mirry. Can I ask you for one more thing? I need two more of the leather pouches. And maybe some of the same things you filled ours with?”

Mirry nodded her head. “Yes Miss Hermione. Mirry will have them with her when she meets you tonight.” She tapped the platter of roasted venison and vegetables. “You both eat plenty now. Mirry bring healthy dinner later too.” She left without waiting for an answer.

Draco huffed at the suddenly empty space. “That elf mothers me worse than my actual Mother.”

Hermione laughed gently. “I think she’s very sweet.” Propping her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her hands and considered him.

“What’s that look for?” He served a plate of roast and placed it between her elbows. “It’s mildly terrifying.”

“I have to ask you to do something, and I’m only ninety percent sure I can trust you with it.” She was very still as she talked, her brown eyes roving over his face as she came to a decision. “I need you to search your library before we go, and maybe copy some books.”

Draco cleared his throat. “Must be important. I’ll do it.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to know what it is first?” At Draco’s shrug, she hummed. “Well then, I guess that the remaining ten percent can shut up. Because this _is_ important. I need you to search for books on Horcruxes.”

Draco dropped his fork. “Why would you- Oh that _fucker_.” He threw down his knife as well, balling his fists on the table. “Tell me he didn’t make one.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment. “Not just one.”

Draco blanched, his mouth falling open. “Hecates wrinkled arse. Is that even _possible_?”

Hermione nodded. “Apparently. That’s why I’m choosing to trust you Draco. I need as much information as I can get.”

“Right. Let me eat quickly so Mirry doesn’t force feed me and then I’ll head down to the library. Thank Merlin our library has a charm to make it easy to search.” Draco began bolting down his food, reminding Hermione rather strongly of Harry and Ron. She ate more slowly, but appreciated his haste, they didn’t have much time left.

When he finished his plate, Draco stood to leave straight away. “Thank you for trusting me. I’ll make sure no one knows I’m looking into it. I assume that’s why you want copies and not the actual books?”

Hermione smiled at him. “Yes, thank you Draco. Are you going to say good bye to your mother?”

Draco looked away from her, a pinched look on his face. “I… Don’t know. I want to, but I’m scared that I’ll beg her to run with me.”

Hermione reached out and took his hand in her smaller one. “Why don’t you join her for tea if you have time? You don’t even have to say anything at all.”

Nodding shortly, Draco met her eyes. “I’ll think about it. I better get moving.”

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon with the map Draco made her. Checking and rechecking that she’d memorised it all. She also spent some time at the east window where she could see half of the family garden and committed the pathways to her memory too.

As dinner approached she showered and dressed in her sturdy escape clothes and wand holster, leaving her new brown dragonhide boots next to the bed with her pouch. Draco arrived just as she finished tightly braiding her hair, handing her three copied books.

“I couldn’t find much, even with Mirrys help. These all mention them though, if a little vaguely.” He looked tired and nervous, running his hands through his hair as he always did when he was agitated.

“Thank you.” She stowed them in her bag to look at later. “Are you alright?”

Draco blew out a frustrated breath and rolled his shoulders. “Not really. I had tea with Mother. She’s still pretending everything is fine. She was even talking about inviting the Parkinson’s for tea. Like nothing mental is happening under her roof!” Furrowing his brow, he crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “I just worry about her. I’m hoping the fact that she lives in her own little world these days and whatever love Bellatrix has left for her keeps her safe.”

Hermione rubbed his bicep, not knowing what to say. Draco shot her a tremulous smile in thanks. “I better get changed. Might not have time after we eat, people are already starting to head out.” Pulling his grey pouch from his jacket pocket, he swept off to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

When he returned, wearing black Muggle denims and an indigo Henley with an olive green canvas jacket draped over one arm, Hermione was sitting at the dining table with a nervous looking Mirry sitting in a tall chair next to her.

“I invited Mirry to join us, seeing as it will be our last meal in here.” She grinned.

Draco quirked an eyebrow at her, and she pointedly tilted her head in a move reminiscent of McGonagall when a student offended her.

“Oh, yes. Wonderful. Please do join us Mirry.”

Mirry gave him an uncertain look in response before studying her plate of lamb stew.

Dinner was a little awkward, but pleasant nonetheless. Soon it was time for Mirry to collect her belongings and go to scout the garden ahead of them. “Mirry wait where she is told, by the Apollinaris Arch. Good luck Miss and Master.” She left with a quick curtsey and somewhat timorous smile.

Draco took a steadying breath and checked his wand in his holster. “Ok, five minutes until it’s time to go. You ready?”

Hermione all but ran to collect her bag and stood eagerly in the middle of the room.

Draco raised his pale gold brows at her and offered her a gentlemanly arm. “Are all Gryffindors so eager to risk life and limb?”

Hermione settled her hand in the crook of his elbow and grinned up at him. “Oh, life threatening danger is a good work out for us.”

Draco barked a surprised laugh and shook his head. “Well, best not keep you waiting then. Off we go.”

When their feet landed, Hermione looked around the beautiful bookshelf lined sitting room, all done in soft midnight blue accents with creamy gold walls. Then both of the teens froze.

Perched demurely on a buttery velvet chaise lounge in violet batiste robes was a very disappointed looking Narcissa Malfoy.

“Oh, _Draco_.”


	12. Tension

Draco took a cautious step between his mother and Hermione. “Good evening Mother. Is there something I can help you with?” He asked, his tone kept carefully curious. Hermione winced a little internally at how transparent he was being.

Narcissa stood with the easy grace of someone who’d been trained to exemplify it from the time they could walk and glided over to stand in front of her son, looking every bit the Lady Malfoy. “Is this really your choice, Draco?” Her glacial eyes were as cold as her voice as they flicked from him to the girl standing quietly behind him.

Draco turned his head the tiniest fraction towards Hermione before correcting himself and putting as much indifference into his bearing as he could muster. “What choice Mother? I’m simply entertaining myself for an evening.”

Narcissa’s hand lashed out, catching Hermione by the wrist and dragging her out from behind Draco. “Darling, I know you don’t expect me to believe that. I am many things, but I am not an idiot.” Her disappointed tone sounded more like he’d been caught with his hand in a sweet jar before dinner than like he’d been caught mid escape with a prisoner. “Now, tell me, what are you and your Mudblood up to?”

Hermione nearly slapped the taller witch.

“Don’t-“ Draco stopped his infuriated hiss too late.

“Don’t hurt her? Or don’t call her that?” Narcissa raised one perfectly groomed and darkened eyebrow in query. “Answer me honestly little dragon. A Mother always knows when their child lies.” She squeezed Hermione’s wrist with surprising strength for one so dainty, making her gasp and try to pull free. Narcissa simply dug the sharp tips of her nails into the thin skin of Hermione’s wrist in warning without so much as a glance in her direction.

“Neither. Dammit Mother, don’t do either of those things.” Draco reached towards where Narcissa held Hermione’s wrist, his hand stopping just short of them. “Let her go please.” He asked with surprising firmness.

To her great surprise, Hermione _was_ let go. Narcissa turned and gracefully seated herself on the lounge again and looked at Draco expectantly, clearly waiting for Draco to explain himself.

Draco licked his lips and glanced at Hermione before looking back to his Mother. “Mother, we can leave tonight. Come with us.” His hand, which was still outstretched from his attempt to free Hermione, turned in supplication.

Narcissa’s eyes hardened and she turned her face away slightly so only Draco was in her line of sight. “And go where?” She asked, her tone deceptively mild all of a sudden.

“Mother please, we have to get out of this madhouse. Come with me.” Draco’s voice cracked on the last plea, and Hermione brushed one finger down his arm to comfort him where Narcissa couldn’t see.

“Be serious, Draco. I am Lady Malfoy, and I will _protect_ my home.” Narcissa’s eyes softened again and she reached a hand to her son with a put upon sigh. “But of course, the Heir should be worldly, perhaps a trip will clear your mind, my dear. A mother must know when to let her son grow up a little. Especially once they’re of age.” A fond smile dawned on her face, completely at odds with the whole conversation thus far.

Draco fell to his knees in front of the lounge as he took her hand. “Mother…”

Narcissa cut him off with a raised finger. “Now dear, I suppose you best be moving along if you’re ready to leave. Do try to stay out of trouble, don’t let your friends drag you to too many bars and such. I don’t particularly want to hear the details, but I will have a hangover potion sent to you when you wake.” She joked, wagging her finger at him before touching his nose in a playful admonishment.

Draco choked on a small noise in his throat and hugged his mother, who hugged him back gently. Narcissa then shocked Hermione by standing, crossing to where she stood like an awkward bystander, and pulling her into a hug as well, fiercely whispering into her ear. “You keep him safe. If anyone looks they’ll see a memory of a son leaving his mother to go carousing. I can buy you a few days, no more. Keep. Him. Safe.” Nacissa pulled away with her bizarre fond smile firmly back in place and breezed towards the door with easy grace. “Good night my little dragon. Remember to get _some_ sleep tonight.” Then in a swish of airy violet robes and fluttering blonde hair she swept out of the door.

Draco stared at the door with tears in his eyes. “Well, at least she won’t be telling Father I’ve fucked off to join the Order.” He took a shaky breath and motioned to the door Narcissa had left through. “Give her a minute, and then we’ll go too.”

Hermione grabbed his forearm urgently. “Draco, she won’t tell, but not because she’s lost it. It’s an act! She told me to keep you safe and that she was acting out a false memory!” She blurted out excitedly.

Draco looked poleaxed. “What? But she’s been like that since I got back! I think I’m getting through to her on something and then…” Hermione saw the moment realisation hit him. “Her Occlumency. She can present partial memories!” A bright smile spread over his face, making him look younger. “She’s okay!”

Hermione nodded and slid her hand down his arm for a quick clasp of his long fingers. “She’s going to be fine. She can protect herself, even if she is staying here.”

Draco’s smile dimmed at the reminder that they’d be leaving his mother, whose protection was the reason he’d done everything he had. “Right. Of course. We better go though. Mirry will be waiting.” He said gruffly. After a silent moment in which Hermione wondered if she should apologise for ruining the small joy he’d found, Draco eased open the door and peered out. “We’re clear. Let’s go.” Taking Hermione’s hand, he led her out the door of his suite and down the hallway, pausing every now and then to listen for anyone approaching.

When they reached the garden Draco continued to lead Hermione through the deserted pathways until they reached the Apollinaris Arch. Draco looked around the densely vined arch for any sign of the third member of their little escape attempt and hissed her name when she was nowhere to be seen. “Mirry?”

The little elf crawled from her hiding spot at the base of the lush arch and bushed off her deep green tea towel. “Here Master Malfoy. Mirry has been thoroughly checking the gardens this side of the Manor. No one else in Garden or on East Lawns. Most Death Eaters gone for all night.” Mirry was trembling with nerves which made her little brown cloth backpack clatter a little, but the set of her chin was determined and brave.

Hermione let go of Draco’s hand to hug her. “Thank you Mirry, you’ve been so brave. Are you ready to come with us?” She asked, taking comfort in how brave Mirry was being despite her fear.

Mirry nodded solemnly, and immediately began to move down the white stone path with light steps. “We best go. Mirry not want to be caught.”

Draco and Hermione followed, tense and alert, wands in hand. The walk through the garden was jumpy, as they kept expecting opposition in every shadow. The abundance of statues looming everywhere in the gardens did absolutely nothing for their nerves. Every time a dark silhouette suddenly appeared in a hidden alcove or around a corner, Hermione nearly cursed them into dust. Mirry and Draco were equally jumpy, but seemed a little less hex-happy about the scares.

When they reached the lawns, Hermione put out a hand to stop Draco and Mirry. “We forgot to Disillusion!” She hissed, mortified by her lapse. She’d been so focused on the sneaking, that she’d forgotten the actual sneakiest part of it.

Draco rolled his eyes to the sky. “Salazar, we bloody did! Hold still.” Quickly charming Hermione and Mirry, he waited for Hermione to do his charm and then they set off over the lawn at a brisk pace, each of them staying low just in case someone came close enough to spot the ripple of their concealments. Even Mirry was ducked over as they crossed the lawns.

The walk felt exposed and all three of them felt their shoulder blades itching, expecting a curse or an alarm from the direction of the Manor while they traversed the seemingly endless lawns. The fear that someone would discover them gone, or Narcissa might be found out and an alarm would be raised was forefront of all their minds. They’d been fairly sure their simple plan would work, but the bubbling anxiety dogged their footsteps as they moved as quietly as possible towards their destination. After far too long for comfort, they reached the magically dense hedges that surrounded the Malfoy grounds. 

Draco made a small cut on his right hand with his wand and touched one of the roots, seemingly no different to the rest of the gnarled roots pressing up the grass at the base of the ancient hedges that bordered the Malfoy property. The branches directly in front of them twisted back on themselves to create a small tunnel just tall enough for a reasonably tall human to walk through with a crushed gravel path. Draco holstered his wand as he watched the last of the branches settle into place and held out one hand to Hermione and the other to Mirry. “You’ll need to hold my hands for me to take you through. Otherwise the Hedge will close on you and keep you here until Father comes to free you.”

Hermione and Mirry took his hands without comment, and the three of them passed through the hedge, which sealed behind them as they passed through. Hermione estimated that the Hedge must have been at least five meters thick.

“Thank god one of your ancestors decided to add that.” Hermione quietly commented as she looked around to check for any guards once they reached the end of the escape tunnel.

“Agreed. Paranoid ancestors really do come in handy. Thank the stars I have an abundance of them.” Draco let go of Mirry but continued to hold on to Hermione, his cold hand shaking a little. “The wards end just over there. Let’s go.” He pointed at the shallow ditch ten meters away. Hermione chewed her cheek to avoid pointing out that she absolutely already knew that from their planning sessions. 

Stepping through the wards felt faintly like bathing in a carbonated drink, and once on the other side the air was noticeably hotter. Hermione couldn’t help but be impressed by the kind of magic it must take to keep an entire estate climate controlled.

Hermione turned to Draco to see him looking back at his home, hidden now behind the many protective wards, with a forlorn look on his face. “Draco… If you want… It’s probably not too late for you to go back. I can manage from here.” She offered quietly.

Draco turned to frown at her and firmed his grip on her hand. “Absolutely not.” He clipped. “I was just thinking about how to get my home _back_ one day.”

Hermione smiled at him then. “We will. We’ll get it all back for you.” She impulsively hugged him around the middle with a laugh. “We’re on the right path to do that now! We’re _both_ free!”

Draco hugged her back, squeezing her tight. “We are. And we will.” Stepping out of her arms he offered his bent elbow to her again. “Now, shall we leave this place behind?”

Hermione took his arm. “Absolutely. I’ll side-along you.” She placed a hand on Mirrys shoulder, then with a crack, they were gone.


	13. The hard choice

Draco steadied Hermione as they landed in a small copse of trees at the end of a quiet Muggle street while Mirry peered around to make sure they hadn’t been spotted by any Muggles. The park was quiet and empty at this time of night, lit by a solitary streetlamp where it met the road. Hermione looked at the familiar playground, the swings creaking gently in the breeze, and felt a pang in her heart at how simple life had seemed when she used to spend sunny afternoons sitting on them with a book in hand while other children played all around her. If she’d known how much she’d one day ache from nostalgia she would have spent more time appreciating those moments.

Hermione dropped her hand from Draco’s arm and stepped around a tree towards the street, pointing to the house directly across from them. “That’s my house.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I’ll, uh, be right back.” Squaring her shoulders and gathering every last ounce of her Gryffindor bravery, she left Mirry and Draco standing underneath the shelter of the trees and marched across the road to the house with a blue door. 

Her home was a simple house, painted while with blue trims and doors. Her mother had picked the colours, saying that she’d always loved Ming dynasty vases and having the house painted to match them made her feel like she was living in one. The garden was carefully planned, but showed that two busy people lived there. Weeds pushed through the mulch in places and most everything needed a good trimming. 

Pausing on the step she half turned back, nearly begging Draco to come with her, before shaking herself and quietly letting herself in with a whispered _Alohamora_.

Her parents were watching the television, curled up into each other on the couch with mugs of tea in hand and she nearly sobbed to see Crookshanks had been returned home by someone and was asleep next to her father. Hermione had been so worried about what could have happened to him after she’d been taken at Hogwarts, knowing her familiar had found his way home might be small comfort, but it _was_ comfort. 

Hermione watched her parents from behind for a long moment, committing the sight of them curled up together to her memory, before speaking in an unsteady voice. “Hi Mum, hi Dad.”

Helen and John Granger gasped and twisted around to face her, mouths open in shock. Her mother moved first, launching straight over the back of the couch, wild hair flying and full mug cast aside in her haste. “Oh my baby! Where have you been? Oh I’ve been sick with worry!” Hermione fell into her mother’s arms, tears running down her face.

John ran around the couch to join them. “Oh Hermione, we’ve been so worried!” He grabbed her by the cheeks and turned her head to look at her, deep honey brown eyes searching her face. “Are you okay? You weren’t hurt? How did you get here?!” His hands checked over every part of Hermione that he could reach between his wife’s arms, clasping and patting as though to make sure she was real and uninjured.

“I’m okay, I was fine. I just needed to be kept somewhere safe for a while.” Hermione said around the lump in her throat. Tears ran down all three of their faces as she reached one arm to hug her father as well and her parents shared a heavy look over her head and Crookshanks wound around their ankles with a disapproving look of his own. “Did you get my letter?”

Hermione’s mother patted her hair and pulled her head back into the crook of her shoulder. “We did, but it was so mysterious! No way to write back or anything! And how could you think we’d move to Australia when you were missing?!” Helen leaned back a bit to fix an angry stare at her daughter. “Surely you don’t think so badly of us?”

Hermione gripped her mother’s arms. “Mum, never! But you should have gone. There’s-“

John interrupted his daughter. “I know, you’ve been saying that something bad has been coming for more than a year now, but we are _not_ leaving. Hermione, nothing is going to happen to us. Or you. You’re safe at home now and that’s what matters.” His face was so earnest as he looked at her that it cracked her heart in two. “I know that you get anxious, but we can’t uproot our whole lives for that. Obviously things are ok if you’ve been released from wherever you were being ‘protected’.” Hermione could hear in his voice that he didn’t really understand why she would need any sort of protection.

Helen nodded along with her husband. “He’s right sweetheart. And even if something dire was happening, your wizard police will sort it out, if they haven’t already.” She gave her an encouraging smile.

“Mum, it is serious! You need to get out of England, _please_.” Her breath caught on the last word. Her parents had always had so much _trust_. Trust in the police, trust in the government, trust in the severe Scottish woman who told them their daughter was a witch.

It was a trust that Hermione had never had. She’d fought tooth and nail against the establishment as soon as she could talk.

“Sweetheart, maybe you should stay home for a while.” Her mother’s tone was gentle, coaxing. “I know things must feel more intense when there’s magic involved, so perhaps staying out of it would be good for you, at least until school begins again. Perhaps you can pop your wand away and just have a bit of normality, yeah?” Helen held Hermione out from her body a little, her eyes looking for Hermione’s wand.

John nodded his head in agreement and stroked Hermione’s long braid. “Your Mum is right little birdie, I think you’re just getting wound up in all the magic stuff. I know if I could do some of the things you wizards can do I’d probably think things were on a grander scale than they really were too. A break would do you good. You can tell us about what happened in the morning over breakfast and we’ll work out how to help you together.” His face was so kind, the kind of face that would help out anyone who needed it but ultimately trusted in the powers-that-be to sort out the big picture. Every tender word spoken was like a shard of glass embedded in Hermione’s skin.

Hermione gave a broken sob and broke away from her parents loving embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.” She released her wand from her holster and pointed it at them before they could react. “ _Somnus_.” The Grangers sank to the floor in a deep sleep, Hermione falling to her knees beside them as their faces went from the first spark of panic to lax in the thrall of her spell. “I’m sorry, I’ll find you when it’s over, I promise. You just need to be _safe_.” She sobbed.

How she wished the magical community wasn’t so tight lipped about the dangers inherent to having the kind of power they did. How she wished _she_ hadn’t been so tight lipped about her misadventures over the years. No wonder they didn’t understand when she’d downplayed every injury, and the teachers had placated any worries her parents had by reinforcing how she was fine, if they’d told her parents anything at all. What a stupid policy not alarming the parents of Muggleborns was. She hoped that she’d never have to tally the lives lost because the parents of her peers didn’t understand the danger simply having a magical child but no magic themselves had put them in.

Dragging herself upright, Hermione looked around her childhood home. All its comforts were suddenly haunting, its familiarity suddenly alien to her. The living room a strange place haunted by memories once warm and now cold, the kitchen no longer a place of comfort where she’d spent so much time watching her parents move around each other like they were dancing. The only sound was the murmur of the telly and Hermione suddenly found it grating and flicked her wand to turn it off, not even bothering to pick up the remote from where it had fallen in her parents mad dash to get to her.

Blindly, she set about the tasks she’d known she’d have to do, but hoped she wouldn’t. Picking up the phone from its cradle she rang the international airport while waving her wand to conjure up cardboard boxes and set her parents life to packing itself. She diverted her childhood mementos and personal items into a separate box, along with a few photos of the small family, erasing herself from the rest as they passed by. The streams of objects that came from all over the house packed themselves neatly away, just the way her mother would have organised them if she’d done it herself. 

“Heathrow International, how may I direct your call?”

-

It took twenty minutes of arguing with the bookings department at the Airport and a specialised charm to make her voice more convincing while she used her wand to alter all the identity documents her parents had, but the newly named Wilkins were due to depart tomorrow evening for Sydney. From there, they’d stay in a mid-range hotel while they looked for a perfect place to settle down. Fake contracts to begin the sale of the house and business were conjured and neatly laid out on the coffee table, copies in her bag ready to be snuck into the files of the real estate agent. 

Hermione’s heart broke with every word she spoke and every flick or swish of her wand as she tried not to look at her sleeping parents. She hardened her heart as she shattered it, promising herself that it was for the best as her childhood sanctuary emptied and her likeness faded from happy photos. Her parents would never leave if they were worried about her, so she knew that she had to make it so they wouldn’t worry. At all.

Eventually the whole house was packed in neat boxes stacked against the walls, furniture placed in easy reach for the international movers or for sale. Turning to her slumbering parents with suppressed sobs wracking her frame, she put her wand to first her father’s temple, and then her mother’s, weeping out the spell. “ _Obliviate_.” She levitated them to the couch, arranging them so they looked like they’d simply drifted off before placing her wand against their temples again, concentrating extremely hard on the lives she’d written for them months ago when she began planning this in the silence of the early morning while she sat sleepless in the Gryffindor common room. “ _Suppono Memorium_.”

Just like that, she was gone from their lives. In the space of half an hour, so little time, the Grangers had been replaced by the Wilkins. They’d never know they had a daughter, or any child at all. They’d leave for a long anticipated adventure in Australia, while their forgotten daughter spent a day confounding various people into believing the Grangers had planned this for months and that all the accounts and assets belonging to the Grangers were in fact the property of the Wilkins. They’d never know her sacrifice, they’d be happy and tan with their beloved old cat Crookshanks in the place they’d always wanted to retire to. Most importantly, they’d be safe.

Hermione Granger pressed one last kiss to the cheeks of Wendell and Monika Wilkins, gave Crookshanks one last pat as he stared at her solemnly, then shrunk her lonely box containing her entire life so it fit into the pouch on her hip. 

“Bye Mum and Dad, I’ll find you when I’m done, I promise.” Then she cast a quick _Renerverate_ and slipped out of the blue front door, shutting it quietly behind her before her parents could stir awake.

Leaning against the door, she furiously scrubbed the tears from her eyes. “I had to do it. They wouldn’t have gone.” She muttered to herself. Hermione walked down the path to the road, past the little stone bench carved with elaborate swirls that never quite fit into the garden, through the small gate that had squeaked the entirety of her childhood but never seemed to get fixed, and out of her parents lives.


End file.
